


Tumblr Fics

by KleoHoney



Category: Captain America (Movies), Defending Jacob (TV 2020), Knives Out (2019), Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: 18+, ALL THE GOOD STUFF, Comfort, Daddy Kink, Degradation, Dirty Talk, Dysfunctional Family, F/M, Fluff, Jealousy, Masturbation, Menstruation, Object Insertion, Pining, Polyamory, Possessive Sex, Smut, Stalking, Tags to be added, Threesome, Tumblr, Voyeurism, cum-play, dub-con, oral (female receiving), public-sex, warnings on each chapter
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-09-19
Updated: 2021-03-01
Packaged: 2021-03-07 23:40:48
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 21
Words: 38,143
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26546155
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/KleoHoney/pseuds/KleoHoney
Summary: This will contain all of my writing from Tumblr! My user is kleohoneyao3 and I am currently taking requests! There will be more info in each chapter summary so feel free to skip whatever you're not into.* indicates smut but be sure to read through warnings before each part
Relationships: Andy Barber/Reader, Bucky Barnes/Reader, Captain America/Reader, Ransom Drysdale/Reader, Steve Rogers/Reader, stucky/reader - Relationship
Comments: 161
Kudos: 423





	1. tipsy*

**Author's Note:**

> Angry, jealous and possessive Steve (yum), Reader is drinking so brief mentions of alcohol, pining, elevator sex, fingering, dirty talk, pet names and slight Daddy kink if you squint. If any of these things are triggering, go no further!

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Steve decides he's finally had enough of you ignoring him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  **Warnings** : Angry, jealous and possessive Steve (yum), Reader is drinking so brief mentions of alcohol, pining, elevator sex, fingering, dirty talk, pet names and slight Daddy kink. If any of these things are triggering, go no further!

Going out clubbing had never really been your thing, but in the year you’d spent as an Avenger it had become a must after particularly gruelling missions. It was easy to lose yourself to a strong beat and an even stronger drink. Better if you could lose yourself in a stranger’s arms after. 

The angry look in Steve’s eyes had you wondering if it was all worth it. The crowd parted as he strode in through the doors, ignoring the curious gazes of all the partygoers. He was wearing jeans and some haphazardly buttoned shirt, dark eyes scanning the crowd.

Looking for you.

You knocked back the rest of your drink and slinked away from the bar. It was no secret that Steve was disapproving of your post-mission activities but this was a whole new level. It was usually restricted to eye-rolling and bitter looks. He’d never actually turned up before. 

Maybe it was something to do with the kiss you’d shared two weeks ago. 

You’d almost made it to the doors when a hand wrapped itself round your upper arm. You turned with a wobbly smile. “Well, hello Steven. I didn’t know clubbing was your thing.”

Jaw clenched, he tugged you out of the doors. “We’re leaving. Now.”

“What? Why?” truthfully you weren’t all that bothered, but the day you passed up a chance to argue with Steve would be a cold day in hell. “Who put you in fucking charge?”

There was a sleek black car pulled up on yellow lines outside the club. Your brows jumped up your forehead. Onlookers gasped and pointed at you both and you heard the tell tale snapping of cameras. It occurred to you that you should probably be embarrassed, but the heat coursing through your veins kept you occupied. 

“Get in the backseat right now.” 

You scowled but complied, throwing the door open and clambering in. Steve marched around the other side and got in the driver’s side. He pulled off almost immediately, leaving you fumbling for the seatbelt in the dark.

“Jesus, Steve,” you barked, “what the fuck is wrong with you? You never bother anyone else after missions, it’s always-”

“If you planned on getting fucked by some random guy at the earliest opportunity, you shouldn’t have let me kiss you two weeks ago!” he slammed his hands down on the wheel, the force of the blow shaking the whole car.

Your lips part and you slump in your seat. That wasn’t fair. You’d waited for him to bring it up, to maybe ask you on a date or compliment you or something - but he hadn’t. Now this?

“I didn’t think you were interested,” you sneered at him in the mirror, “you never looked at me in that way before. Not until we kissed.”

“Are you kidding me?” he asked incredulously. “I’ve been looking at you like ‘that’ since you joined the team. Bucky’s been telling me to go for it for months. I was gonna ask you on a date but you’ve been avoiding me - don’t fucking roll your eyes. I’m not a liar.”

“Whatever,” you said, “can we just go home? I’m tired.”

“I’m not surprised. How many guys did you let touch you tonight?” in the brief snatches of light from street lamps you could see his hands tightening on the wheel. “How many touched what is mine.”

None. None, because you hadn’t been able to stomach another person’s touch for months. Especially not after the kiss. “A few,” you lied, “I can’t remember them all.”

Steve swore viciously and went silent. You slipped your heels off and checked your purse, pulling out your phone to see several unread messages.

Bucky: Watch out. Red, white and blue incoming. Not in a good mood.

You scoffed. If only you’d seen it a few minutes earlier and you might’ve escaped. You pondered the chances of you and Steve being front page news in the morning. Likely.

Steve pulled up to the Tower and headed into the underground car park. You were out of the car before it had even stopped, bare feet tapping on the concrete as you made a dash for the elevators. You’d been lectured enough for one night.

You frantically pressed the button for your floor. Just as the door were about the seal shut, Steve’s hand shot through the gap and they opened again. He glared at you. Never had you seen him this pissed outside of a mission. 

“So, what now?” you asked, swinging your heels in your hands.

Steve’s hand shot out and jabbed at the red button on the panel. There was a jolt and then the elevator slid to a stop. You gaped up at him. 

“JARVIS, please shut off all the cameras,” Steve’s voice was calm but his eyes betrayed how he really felt. “This isn’t an emergency. I just need a minute.”

“Are you out of your ever-loving mind?” you pressed the red button but nothing happened. JARVIS’ voice confirmed that all the cameras had been temporarily switched off. Tony would not be happy.

Steve shrugged, folding his arms across his chest and leaning back. “Seems like this is the only way to get you to talk to me. So, talk.”

“What do you want me to say?” you snapped back. “Yes, I like you. Yes, I waited a week and a half for you to ask me out. Yes, I saw you flirting with the newest recruits. So, Steve-”

“Wait, what?” Steve cornered you. “Flirting? Baby, it sounds like you were a little jealous.”

“Yeah, and so were you tonight,” you hissed, “so that makes two of us. Now get your paws off of me before I take you the fuck out.”

“Tomorrow morning,” Steve ignored you and continued, “breakfast. There’s a cute little cafe a few blocks from here. I’ve wanted to take you for a while.”

Your heart stuttered but you stubbornly shut it out. “Sorry, I don’t eat breakfast.”

“Dinner, then.”

“Don’t eat dinner either.”

Steve laughed. “Baby, be nice. I’m trying here.”

It was hard to concentrate when his thumb was making tight circles at the very top of your thigh. Wearing a short dress had seemed like a brilliant idea, but now you were almost regretting. Key word: almost.  
“You like that?” Steve murmured. He was close enough for every breath to be brushing across your bottom lip. “I think you’ll like this, too.”

The kiss was searing, exactly what you’d needed. Steve swallowed the moan that bubbled up your throat, his tongue fucking into your mouth like he wanted to eat you alive. He pressed you back against the wall until he was the only thing holding you up. All the while, his fingers were crawling higher.

“Steve, wait, it’s too much.” you were embarrassingly breathless. “In here?

“Like I said,” his head dipped down to press kisses into your shoulder, “this is apparently the only place I can get you to myself. Now, baby, how many men touched you tonight?”

The lie bubbled at your lips but you swallowed it. “None. I- I haven’t done that for a while.”

“Why?” Steve answered for you. “Because you know only I can make you feel this good.”

When his fingers met the wet lace of your panties you cried out. Steve sucked a bruise into your shoulder and laughed, that son of a bitch. He circled your clit with his middle finger, teasing you through the fabric. You quivered in time with each touch.

“This for me, baby?” he asked coyly. 

Before you could reply, he dipped his fingers beneath the lace and pushed one inside of you. Your grip on his shoulders was tight as your legs buckled. He used his thumb to rub tight circles into your clit and hoisted your other leg around his waist. The position wasn’t comfortable but you needed him to make you cum. How you’d lived without it was beyond you.

Steve curled the finger inside of you, brushing against that spongy spot where it felt best. Your head tilted back and your eyelashes fluttered at the intimate caress. Steve’s lips latched onto your throat and he concentrated on sucking another bruise into your skin. The rock hard line of his cock pressed into your hip. Never had you felt so owned. 

The orgasm began at your core and swept throughout your entire body, right down to your toes. Dimly you registered your body sliding down to the floor, only to be hoisted up into Steve’s arms. It felt beyond good.

“That’s it,” he cooed, “that’s it, sweet girl. Cum for me.” He didn’t pull his fingers away until you were boneless and shaking like a rag doll. Those same fingers went straight to his mouth and he didn’t look away as his tongue swirled around them. Fuck.

“No wonder you didn’t want to go to breakfast,” he cupped your pussy with one hand. “You’ve got the sweetest thing in the world right here.”

You huffed a laugh that trailed into a moan when his hand cupped a little firmer. “Steve, please.”

“Alright, baby,” he said. He reached over and said something to JARVIS. The elevator vibrated and then was moving again, heading straight to your floor. There was no question that you were going to be inviting Steve in. 

Maybe then you’d be hungry enough for breakfast tomorrow.


	2. pressure*

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sometimes Ransom likes to test your loyalty.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  **Warnings:** Mentions of a dysfunctional family and lack of trust. Also vaginal sex, possessive sex and overall jealous behaviour. Unprotected sex (wrap it before you tap it).Happy (satisfying) ending!

“Do you like him?”

All the chatter of the party seemed to fade into the background. Your smile faltered. Whilst Ransom’s voice was teasing, his expression was not.

Still, you tried to grin. “What? Like who?”

Ransom smiled, though there was really no humour in it. He slipped an arm around your waist and tugged you to his side, steering you out of the crowded room. Both anticipation and fear fought to take control in your head.

“That man,” he said without clarification. 

Ransom herded you out of the room and into the darkened corridor. It had been your idea to come to this party, just to get his family off of his back. You’d thought he had understood, but he’d been nothing but temperamental since you’d arrived an hour ago. His family had done the wise thing and steered clear.

‘That man’ he was referring to was some distant cousin. Usually you liked to limit all contact with Ransom’s family but Will had been more than friendly, even if you hadn’t had too much in common. Whilst Ransom had been sulking at the bar, you’d kept yourself out of harm’s way and tucked safely away in a corner with Will. Now you were wondering if you maybe should have mingled a little more. 

You pulled your hand from Ransom’s and tore his hands from your waist. “Ransom, seriously. You know your family hate me. I had no one else to talk to.”

“You had me.” he seethed. “How was I supposed to feel when I see my girl cozying up with some fucking random? Was I supposed to smile and wave? Be a good boy?”

Ransom snatched your hand back up and took off down the corridor. You hurried to keep up with him, the sound of your heels echoing off of the walls. 

The sound of Ransom’s heavy breathing had your own breath catching in your throat. Your nipples tightened in your sheer bra and brushed teasingly against the material of your dress. 

Ransom was a man who knew how to stake his claim.

Arousal pooled in your gut and dampened your panties. You hated to take advantage of Ransom when he was like this, but whenever you pushed him away it only fuelled his need to have you. Refusing him would only make the situation worse. Besides, you were never one for resitsing temptation.

Ransom seemed to know exactly where to go. The first door you came to he pushed open, pushing you inside with gentle hands that contrasted against the look on his face. You bit your lip to stop a moan from bubbling past them.

“I should’ve kissed you right there,” he shoved a hand through his hair, “right in front of that bastard. Should’ve made him watch as you melted into my hands. You always do, baby.”

You did. There was no denying it. So when Ransom pushed you against the wall and shoved your dress up around your waist, you didn’t bother stopping him. He tugged your neckline down until your bra was revealed, suctioning his mouth over the sheer fabric and sucking. Instantly your knees buckled.

Using one hand to pin you against the wall, Ransom shoved the other down the front of your panties and went straight for your clit. He rubbed tight circles around the sensitive flesh, dipping into the slick pooling from your pussy before bringing it back up.

“You like that?” he mumbled into your breast. “You like when I fuck you with my fingers? When I play with your pretty pussy?”

“Yes, yes,” you tilted your hips when he pushed his fingers in, driving them into that spongy spot repeatedly, “please, Ransom. I need - I need it.”

“Need what?” he pressed, hand pausing. “Be specific, baby. I want to hear you say it.”

“Just -” you sucked in a breath, feeling dizzy -”just fuck me.”

“Since you asked so nicely,” he smiled, showing a little too much teeth. 

You gasped as your panties were yanked to the side and Ransom pulled your head down to watch as his fingers speared into your cunt. It was utterly erotic, watching those thick fingers delve into your puffy folds, slick with your own arousal. It made you hunger for more.

Ransom made a show out of unzipping his trousers and pulling his cock from their confines. Pre cum was beaded on the tip and Ransom swiped his finger through it before pushing it into your mouth. The combination of yourself and him was almost too much. 

He hummed as he pulled his finger from your mouth, admiring the string of spit that connected it to your lips. He leaned forward and licked into your mouth, tongue sweeping as if he was trying to taste your very essence, your soul almost. You felt him in your very core.

Ransom used the same hand to pump his cock, guiding it to your entrance. You both watched, eyes rapt on the picture of his cock pushing into your pussy. You moaned at the sight of him parting your folds, one finger still swirling across your clit. When the head popped in you both sighed. Ransom surged forward, burying his head in your damp neck and immediately setting about sucking a hard love bite into your skin.

The first thrust had your head falling back. The sound of his skin slapping against yours along with his fingers on your clit was enough to have you plummeting over the edge. He cursed as your pussy convulsed around his cock, milking him for everything he had.

“Not yet,” he cursed, hitching your thigh over his hip, “not yet, baby. Gotta make you remember this, remember who fucks you so good. Mine.”

You’d never forgotten, but you were all too happy to be reminded. You tried to push Ransom’s fingers away from your clit, the oversensitive nub throbbing from attention, but he wasn’t having it. Sobs wracked through your chest as he fucked you through another orgasm, a gleeful smile on his lips all the while. 

“That’s it,” he cooed, “let me fuck you like this. Do you hear that? You’re so wet, sucking me in. Like you don’t want to let me go.”

I don’t, I don’t. You were too fucked out of it to know if you said the words out loud. Your head lolled back against the wall, rhythmically thumping against the old wallpaper as Ransom made a mess of your cunt. 

He buried his face in your neck again and you cradled the back of his neck, registering the jerks of his cock as the beginning of his orgasm. The pace began to get sloppy but didn’t stop. When you came again, Ransom followed you over the edge. The warmth spread through your cunt as he came in hot waves, still pushing weakly into your body. 

You barely registered the soft kiss he pressed into your cheek. Your mind was too occupied with the wet sound as Ransom pulled from your body. Your cunt clenched around nothing as he seed spilled from you and his eyes stayed locked on it, lips parting at the sight of him dripping from you.

Thick fingers pressed into your heat as he pushed everything back in, seemingly wrapped up in his own head. He lazily tucked your panties into his pocket and then set about righting your dress. Lastly he pushed his softening cock back into the confines of his trousers, zipping them up with a hiss.

“Am I - oh!”

You cried out at the sound off a man’s voice; a man that was definitely not Ransom. Will stood in the doorway, mouth agape as he took in your dishevelled appearance and the sight of your lace panties peeking out of Ransom’s pocket. Ransom, who was grinning so wide his cheeks looked as if they might split.

“Ransom,” Will hissed, “in my fucking room? What is wrong with you?”

“Your room?” Ransom blinked innocently. “Sorry, cousin. A man has needs, you know?”

You weren’t sure whether to laugh or cry.


	3. eyes on you*

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bucky’s opening himself up to you more every day. Your first sexual experience together isn’t average by any means, but it’s perfect nonetheless.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  **Warnings:** Mentions of Bucky’s past and trauma, Bucky’s learning to love himself (as he should). Masturbation, kinda voyeurism but not, everything is consensual. Kinda fluffy but mostly smut.

“You could watch me.”

There was a pregnant pause as the room went still. Bucky’s back was ramrod straight, shoulders tense and face turned away from you. The urge to fill the silence was major but you pushed it down. No matter what, no matter how awkward, you wanted to hear what Bucky would say.

A slight twitch showed you a glimpse of pink parted lips and flushed cheeks. “What do you mean?”

Triumph made a smile bloom across your face. It wasn’t an outright refusal at least. You slid off of the stool and moved to stand behind him, wrapping your arms around his waist and burying your face into his back. This hadn’t been easy for you either, but it was something you’d been thinking about for a long time.

“C’mon, Barnes.” your voice was muffled through the fabric. “You know what I mean.”

Cool metal and soft flesh grasped at your hands. Still, he didn’t turn. You heard the rapid beat of his heart and the sharp intake of breath. It didn’t always feel right, but pushing Bucky out of his comfort zone was apparently an effective way of encouraging his recovery. 

But that was different. This was about sex. You’d been with Bucky for almost nine months and had done nothing more than heated kissing on the sofa. Every time it looked as if it might go a little further, Bucky shut it down. Even when you felt him throbbing in the confines of his jeans, he always found the willpower to pull away.

It had taken a while for you to realise he was punishing himself, forcing himself to abstain from your body. 

You felt his fingers tighten on your skin and hoped, prayed that this would be a step forward and not a step back.

Bucky brought your hands up and kissed them gently with trembling lips. You held your breath. Then, “I think I’d like that, doll.”

Success.  
***  
Now that the moment had finally come, you were undeniably nervous. Still, you forced yourself to relax as you arranged pillows into a comfortable position. You’d thought about using a toy but had come to the conclusion that Bucky, being a little more old school, would probably be more comfortable with fingers. Somehow it also seemed more intimate.

Bucky had dragged a chair up to the edge of the bed, seeming endearingly excited. Traces of anxiety still sat in the weight of his shoulders and furrowed his brow and you longed to kiss and brush them away. Instead, you peeled your shirt from your body.

The intake of breath fuelled your confidence as your breasts swayed with each movement. Your nipples had already peaked and Bucky’s gaze snapped to them, throat bobbing when you cupped them.

“Do you like?”

“I-yes,” his hands fluttered at his sides. Briefly he closed his eyes, and for a second you wondered if you’d lost him. 

When they snapped back open, you realised that the opposite had occurred. You’d found him. He nodded at your flimsy shorts. “Take ‘em off. Please.”

Your heart fluttered at the ‘please’, but you reached for your shorts and pushed them down to your ankle in one smooth move. You hadn’t bothered to shave for the same reason you’d forgone the toy. Shaking fingers pushed through the curls on your mound and you were almost at your clit when he spoke again.

“Wait,” he said, “the bed. Can - could you get on the bed? I want to be able to see. I want to see everything.”

Heart thundering in your chest, you did as he asked. Bucky was being more talkative than you’d expected, and it was doing things to your pussy. Already you could feel the arousal beginning to dampen your outer folds. He hadn’t even touched you.

Bucky leaned forward as you reclined into the pillows, eyes raking down your body like a physical touch. He tilted his head once he reached the juncture between your thighs. Curious. You’d have found it cute if it wasn't so devastatingly arousing.

It took a lot to part your legs, but the gasp from Bucky was worth it. Absently you twirled a finger around your nipple, eyes fixated on Bucky’s face. Blown pupils, pink cheeks, you wanted to give him everything. 

Stifling a moan, you let your free hand stroke down your body until you reached your clit, finger hovering over it. “This is how I like to be touched.” you said throatily.

Blue eyes darted up to yours. “Show me.”

When you used your middle finger to part your folds and stroke a tight circle around your clit, your head fell back onto the pillows. Masturbation felt so much more intense when you were being watched so carefully. Bucky wasn’t missing anything, he’d leaned forward on his knees and every now and again would wipe a hand over his mouth. If you closed your eyes you could almost imagine his breath ghosting across your heat.

Pinching your nipple, you increased the pressure on your clit and cried out, shuddering into the mattress. Bucky cursed, tongue darting out to wet his lips. This wasn’t going to last as long as you’d wanted it to. 

“Fuck,” he hissed, “fuck, doll. That’s the prettiest pussy I’ve ever fuckin’ seen. Keep rubbing for me, baby.”

 _Jesus fucking Christ._ He’d been hiding that mouth from you this entire time? The duvet was beginning to feel damp around your ass and you knew you were leaking profusely. When you imagined it, you caressing yourself and Bucky watching, your pussy clenched around nothing.

“I saw that,” he murmured. “You need my fingers, huh? Or maybe my - my cock.”

Your eyes rolled back in your head. Never had you thought he’d be like this. At least not the first time round. When you convulsed, an orgasm wracking through your body, Bucky shot forward out of the chair so fast he was like a blur.

It wasn’t until he was grasping your ankles, pulling them apart, that you realised they’d snapped close from the intensity of your orgasm. 

Bucky watched as your stomach tightened, pussy throbbing and clenching in time with your heart beat. “That’s it, baby,” he whispered, “gotta see that pussy come. Need to see it.”

It took almost a full minute for your body to stop shuddering. Bucky waited until you’d gone completely still, bright blue eyes fixing on your face. He grinned. Like that cat who’d got the cream.

“I think I want to taste.”


	4. flow

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Reader is on her period. Steve feels helpless.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  **Warnings** Very protective and worried Steve Rogers. Auntie Flo is a big character in this. Reader is in pain. There are hints to smut but none is described.

Even the warm comfort of your sheets weren’t bringing you much joy on this particular morning. No amount of hot water bottles or paracetamol could distract you from the cramps currently squeezing the life out of you. Nausea came in waves. You hadn’t even been able to eat yet this morning.

Periods were never the same with you. One month you barely noticed it, then the next had you calling in sick to work. Periods were a fucking chore, even to an Avenger.

“Baby,” Steve’s voice pulled you from your head. “Are you sure this is normal? You look so pale.”

You almost laughed at the grimace on Steve’s face. His hands jerked at his sides, as if he wasn’t entirely sure where to put them. Periods weren’t something that was spoken about so openly back in his day, so you’d been reluctant to allow him such close proximity.

“It’s normal,” you replied. Your lips twisted as another cramp hit. “God, it hurts so bad. It’s so fucking _annoying.”_

“When was the last time you had paracetamol?” Steve was glaring down at his phone, the blue light reflecting on his face. “Hot water bottles - have you tried that?”

You pulled back the sheets to reveal several. 

“Shit,” Steve scowled. “Baby, let me in.”

You didn’t protest as Steve slid under your sheets, pulling them back over you and tucking them in with an absurd amount of care. Thick arms wound around your stomach, pulling you into his chest. You nestled close, squirming until your head was tucked under your chin and one of your legs was tucked between his.

_Bliss._

It was normally a curse that Steve ran so hot, especially in already humid summer months. Today, though, it was a blessing. You pressed one hand beneath your pyjama top, pressing his palm to your stomach. Instantly the cramps became less severe. 

Steve used his thumb to stroke soft circles into your skin. “That better, baby?”

“Mmmm,” you hummed, letting your eyes fall closed.

Steve pressed gentle kisses into your hairline. “I don’t want you to do this alone again.”

“They’re not always this bad.”

“Still,” he shrugged, jostling you slightly. “You’re my girl. I’d like to be there for you, if you’ll let me. Please.”

Being an Avenger, it sometimes felt difficult to be vulnerable. Hell, you’d been shot before and still been less dramatic than this. But with Steve, everything seemed a little easier.

“I can let you know,” you said, “they’re usually about the same time every month. I have an app on my phone.”

“You do?” Steve reached into his back pocket and pulled out his own phone. “What days? I’ll put them in mine.”

Your heart felt hopelessly full as you listed the days of your cycle. Steve even looked at the app on your phone, flicking through to look at all the symptoms you’d logged and what they all meant. You felt about ready to burst.

You’d prepared yourself for disgust and reluctance. Instead he was taking it like a champ. Never had you had a partner care about you like this. By the end of the month he’d probably know more about periods than you.

“Baby,” he said coyly. His eyes flickered from your phone to your mouth. “Did you know orgasms relieve period pain?”

Fucking hell.


	5. long lost*

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Request on Tumblr: Steve Rogers bound and determined to have female reader because she looks just like his long lost love who died

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warnings: This is a **DARK** one shot! Non-con/dub-con, stalking, kidnapping, pet names, fingering

The first time Steve had seen her, his breath had been punched clear out of his lungs.

For a moment his heart had skipped a beat. Then he remembered the dark, heavy atmosphere of the funeral and he snapped back. Remembered it all. There was no way it could be _her_ because _she_ was dead.

Regardless, Steve found himself watching. At first, it was so he could compare them, make a mental list of all the reasons why she was different (not good enough) compared to her. A few months passed and Steve had realised there were next to no similarities between them and all the differences were good ones - like the way your smile was wider and more open than hers, the way you’d quietly say ‘Good morning, Captain’ whenever you saw him because you were too shy to call him Steve.

That was something he detested but was grateful for all at the same time. Calling each other by first name would only bring you closer, signify some kind of bond, but if Steve heard his name falling from your lips. . .he wasn’t entirely sure he would be able to stop himself from just taking.

Turns out that none of that mattered anyway, because after almost a year of passively watching, Steve had done just that.

He _had_ taken.

Even now you still wouldn’t call him Steve. Snot was smeared around your nose and tears clouded your vision as you said, “Captain, please. There’s a misunderstanding-”

“Not anymore,” he interrupted. “There was a misunderstanding at first. I thought you were someone else. But - you’re not. You’re _you_. And that makes it so much better, doll.”

“I-I don’t know what you’re talking about,” you said pitifully. It wasn’t a lie. 

Steve tilted his head a tutted. Maybe he’d done the rope a little too tight. He hadn’t wanted to hurt you but the risk of you getting away. . .it was too much.

“I let it happen before,” he murmured, more to himself than you. “It won’t happen again.”

“Captain,” you sobbed, “I don’t know what you’re talking about.

”I deserve a second chance,” he hissed, striding forward until you could feel his hot breath fanning across your face. Your arms were twisted awkwardly behind your back and your ankles were secured on either leg of the chair. You weren’t going anywhere. The thought calmed Steve down. “Don’t you think so? After everything - all I’ve done for this country, this world, I deserve something in return. I thought long and hard about what that might be but I only want it to be you.”

His fingers trailed down the side of your face, dipping down to your neck. You shivered at the coolness of your tears on his fingers, never tearing your eyes from his face. You looked into his eyes and saw chaos with clarity in the middle, determination. 

“One day you’ll touch me back,” Steve purred, “but for now, this will do.”

Long fingers dipped behind the hem of your tank top, beneath your bra. He unclipped it and pulled it from your trembling body, discarding somewhere behind him in the dark room. You heard it clatter to the floor and your heart jumped in time with the sound. The finality of it.

Steve knelt between your knees and used his finger to tilt your head down. Watch me, the move seemed to say. He lifted his head up to brush a kiss across your lips but got your cheek instead. 

He hummed, nose brushing across your skin as he laid a gently kiss on your cheek. “Never do that again.”

For a moment you thought he’d try to kiss you again. Instead his head disappeared in the valley between your breasts, kissing and sucking the skin there until it was littered with pink marks that promised to turn dark purple before the day was through. His hair brushed against your nipple, erect in the cold air of the room. Your shoulders jerked and Steve laughed, finally turning his head to take the aching peak into his mouth.

All coherent thoughts seemed to flee your brain at once, leaving you unbearably aware of the way Steve’s teeth nipped at your nipple and the way his tongue chased away the pain. Nimble fingers came up to twist and pinch the other until you could barely stay still, torn between enough and not enough. Your breasts pressed into his face and he hummed appreciatively, muttering praise into your skin.

“I’ll have this forever,” he said as he broke away, “I can’t go without it.”

The sound of a zipper being drawn down echoed around the room like a gunshot. Cold air hit your mound and you blinked rapidly, trying to keep up. The heat of Steve’s cock was pressing into your leg and you waited to see if he would free himself. He didn’t.

He followed your line of eyesight and shook his head. “Not yet. Tonight it’s - just you. Just you.”

Relief and horror simultaneously crashed into your body. It might’ve been easier if he was just seeking his own pleasure. Instead he was actively giving you yours. 

Steve’s fingers brushed through coarse curls as he crammed his hands down your jeans. “Fuck. Oh, fuck. You’re wet for me, baby?”

“No,” you lied. You could feel the dampness smeared across your lips and the coldness of your panties.

Steve ignored you. “I’ll take these off for you, yeah?”

He didn’t wait for you to answer. He ripped your jeans in two and pulled them from your body like they were paper. Fear danced across your skin, mingling dangerously with your arousal. How easily could he do the same to you?

Steve shifted you on the chair, sliding his hands beneath your thighs and pulling until your pussy was on display for him. When he moaned, the air fluttered across you and you clenched.

“Can’t wait for you to do that around me,” Steve cooed, “tight little pussy around my cock. Do you want my fingers?”

You wanted - something. You wanted to be let go, to be untied, to be gotten off. You couldn’t have all of those things but the yearning for each transformed into one huge ball of want that was not discriminating. 

Thankfully, Steve didn’t wait for an answer. He used one finger to smear your slick around your opening, eyes fixated on the space. He slid in, knuckle deep with two fingers. The second you cried out he pressed his thumb to your clit, rubbing soothingly and kissing at your thigh.

“That’s it,” he encouraged, “take me. I want to be inside of you.”

There wasn’t much choice. Unlike past lovers, Steve kept his fingers inside you, instead crooking them just right. The edge of the chair dug into your legs as you pressed down onto those fingers. They ghosted across that spongy spot inside and your head fell back, accepting. Still, his thumb rubbed your clit until they became one joint sensation, building and building until you were dangling on the precipice. 

“Please,” you moaned, unsure of what you were even asking for.

“What’s my name, doll?” he punctuated each word with a rub against your g-spot. “I’ve waited this long.”

“Captain.”

“Try again, doll,” he slapped gently at your thigh. “You can do it.”

“Please,” you hissed, struggling. The name danced on the tip of your tongue, but you were wary. Saying it was like pressing a big red button that clearly said ‘Do Not Touch’. 

“You’ve come this far,” Steve said, blowing cool air across your pussy. “You can go a little further. You like my fingers in your pussy? Stroking it? Say my _name.”_

You pressed the button. “Steve, please!”

You weren’t sure what he did - a crook of the finger or extra pressure on your clit, but it had you plummeting over the edge to fast that you could feel the sting of wind on your cheeks. Unstoppable.

“Fuckin’ drenching my hand, baby,” Steve groaned, watching the way his hand reflected the light. “Give me everything. It’s _what I deserve_.”

As you came down, your mind came back to you. Disorientated, but the clarity of what had happened was inescapable. You looked at Steve, blinked at him through clouded eyes. His cheeks were ruddy and the blue around his eyes were non-existent. You might’ve looked ruined but so did he.

Maybe you deserved something, too.


	6. dark assassin*

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Request on Tumblr: So a request for a dark assassin silver fox Steve Rogers x reader with a breeding kink ☺️ if it not to much trouble to ask 😅

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  **Warnings** : DARK! much older Steve, dub-con, assassin, this is a DARK fic, breeding kink, unprotected sex (wrap it before you tap it),18+

The noise of the party downstairs hummed lowly in your ears, drowned out by the rapid sound of your heart trying to leap out of your chest. Still, you couldn’t bring yourself to tear your eyes from the letter, from the picture, and the signature that was so clearly Steve’s.

 _It’s done._  


It was your fault really. Snooping in someone’s office was never a bright idea, especially when they were your fifty something neighbour. Your parents had been big fans of Steve the moment he’d moved in, and he’d been nothing but kind to you whenever you’d visited over the holidays. Now you were frantically going through all of your interactions, desperately searching out the how and the why.

“You weren’t meant to see that, darlin’.”

A scream gets caught in your throat as you snapped round, papers in hand. Steve sighed and reached behind himself, shutting the door with a quiet _snick_. The telltale sound of a lock sliding shut made your entire body break out in tremors. You could just make out the sound of the papers rustling in your hands.

Steve walked forward, sunlight glinting off of the grey hairs scattered amongst his beard and hair. He held out his hand expectantly. “Hand it here.”

You didn’t protest when he took them from you and tossed them into the fireplace. He threw a few logs on top of it until the crimson stain on the picture was no longer visible. You watched as Steve lit the fire, going about it as casually as anything. 

“A man has to make a living,” he said, giving a shrug, “and I happen to be good at that.”

“Don’t tell me anymore,” you held up a hand, surprised to see you’d stopped shaking. “I don’t want to know. I’m going to leave and I’ll never tell a soul because I won’t know anything--”

“You’re mistaken, darlin’,” Steve shook his head. He still hadn’t turned to face you. “From now on, you won’t be going anywhere without my say-so.”

Steve smoothly got to his feet, finally turning to face you. He looked magnificent in the glow of the fireplace. You’d always thought he looked incredibly strong for his age and now you knew why. You started to shake again.

He smiled, and a part of you thought it looked sad. “I never planned for it to be this way. I wanted to take you out, wine and dine you like a proper gentleman. Like you deserve. Like those boys,” he spat the word, “ _never_ could.”

“What?”  


He continued on, “I didn’t want to scare you. I would’ve introduced you to this slowly, gently. You would’ve been okay with it. You might still be. Doesn't the idea of having someone who can protect you appeal to you?”

“Not you,” you whispered, “not like that.”

Your back brushed against the wall and you gasped, startled. Steve had cornered you without you even noticing. Of course he had, you thought bitterly. He probably had plenty of practice. 

“I’ve seen the way you look at me,” he murmured, reaching up to brush a strand of hair from your face. You flinched and he scowled. “You never have to be scared of me. I’m going to protect you.”

He reached for you, faster than you’d expected. One hand fisted in your hair and the other pinned your body with the help of his own, keeping you helpless and squirming. He pressed a bruising kiss to your lips and you whimpered at the force behind it. The salty taste of a tear had you crying out and Steve broke away.

“Just like I thought you’d be,” his eyes were dark. In them, you saw the crimson picture. “So sweet. Young. Mine.”

Steve’s thumb brushed against your nipple and you shook harder, kicking wildly at his legs. He pinched hard and you stopped, whimpering at the pressure. 

“Be good for me and I’ll be good for you, darlin’. I’ve wanted to for so long.” he said simply.

You’d had sex with older men before. You’d explore your sexuality, owned it. If Steve had asked, if it had been a one night deal, then you probably would’ve willingly nose-dived into bed with him. 

However, this was clearly not a fling and Steve was definitely not asking. 

Steve yanked the hem of your tank top down, freeing your breasts from your bra. Groaning low in his throat, he bent his head to take one nipple into his mouth. A strangled noise catches in your throat, caught between a protest and an encouragement. It stays there, stuck.

“That’s it,” he purred, “let me take care of you.”

Steve begins to sink to the floor, dragging you with him. He catches the back of your head in his hand, lowering you to the floor with more compassion than you’d expected. A picture flashes in your mind; those same hands, only painted with red. You nearly gagged.

Protests rise from your lips but Steve only shushes you. You kick out, catching his calf with your heel and he curses, leaning down to bite at your neck in retaliation. Your back arches instinctively and Steve presses your hips together. You can feel the way your skin will bruise already.

“Let me,” he repeats, “just let me, darlin’. I’ll make it so good for you, I swear.”

He separates his hips from yours long enough to shove his hands down the front of your cotton shorts. His fingers sweep through your folds, searching, while he nuzzles at your breasts. It felt like a lot, and without even looking you knew his hand was damp with your arousal.

A finger dusts across your clit and you jerk automatically, eyelids fluttering. Older men could be a hit or miss; not all of them knew much about a woman’s body or cared enough to learn. When Steve used his thumb to apply more pressure and rub slick circles into your clit, you knew which one he was.

“Please,” you hiss, “do it. Steve.”

“I didn’t want to rush,” he answers, but you hear the sound of his zipper, “but I suppose we have all the time in the world. Today, tomorrow. Every day.”

The head of his cock brushes against your sex and you keen. You didn’t know how it had come to this, how you were leaking so desperately onto the floor of his office and lifting your hips to search him out. Everything felt so good, and good was exactly what you needed right now.

Steve slid home in one smooth motion. You clenched around him and he hissed between his teeth, reaching down to pinch your thigh. “Not yet, darlin’. I’ve waited for this, I want to enjoy it.”

Hooking one leg around his waist, Steve pulled out until only the tip was left. He snapped his hips forward and you felt him deep enough to make your head thump uselessly to the floor. 

Steve’s eyes were rapt on the place where you were joined. He watched intently as his cock sank in and out of your body, strings of your arousal connecting him to you. Shoving a hand between your body, his fingers went directly to your clit and he began to set a punishing pace.

“That’s it,” he cooed, “I can feel you fluttering around me. So fuckin’ tight, like you don’t want to let me go. Is that right, huh? You want me to stay here forever?”

“Yesss,” you hissed out on one long breath. You could barely catch your breath. Your heart had stopped stuttering since you’d entered the room.

“Gonna fuck you like this everyday,” he rasped, “gonna get you fuckin’ pregnant. You like that? There will always be a part of me inside of you.”

Some part of you did like it and it shocked you. You felt every ridge of his cock against your walls as your pussy fluttered around it, squeezing him, encouraging him to come and to do it deep. 

For one moment, the earth stuttered on it’s axis and you felt everything. The way Steve was pulsing inside you, the way his thumb was trembling on your clit. The way your arousal was leaking out of you and trailing down the backs of your thighs.

Your legs clenched almost to the point of cramping as you shook beneath Steve. He cooed at you and hummed praising words into your ears, his pace picking up for one second before crumbling as he came inside you. 

A heady feeling had you lying limp as Steve pulled away. He caught your legs and adjusted you until your legs were draped over his bent thighs. His eyes were fixated on your pussy, his chest heaving as he took in the combined mess of you both.

You cried out when he used two fingers to scoop up his cum and push it back in. You tried to twist out of his grasp but he held onto your legs and pressed until your pussy was clenching, taking in everything he’d given you.

“Good girl,” he whispered. It sounded like a shout in the otherwise silent office. 

You were shocked to hear the party still going on downstairs. It was a blessing, for sure. For a moment it had felt as if Steve had carved you and him out of this world and taken you to another. For a split second, there had been only you and him.

His hand caressed over your lower belly and you shivered. Steve pressed a gentle kiss to your sternum. 

“Any day now,” he purred, “any day now.”


	7. anniversary*

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Mob!Steve falls in love with reader, who he initially married for business reasons. It's their first anniversary and he decides to make some changes to their relationship.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  **Warnings** : 18+, darker themes but Steve himself isn’t _that_ dark, yearning, swear words, fingering, dirty talk smut, Daddy kink, spanking, unprotected sex, just filth

It wasn’t meant to be like this. 

From the very start they’d both known it was for business purposes only. Steve had been surprised that she’d been so willing to accept that, to accept that there would never be anything real between them. She’d smiled and nodded, said, “It’s nice to meet you, Mr. Rogers,” and slid on the ring all in the same breath.

Steve had been startled, to say in the least. And so began the year from Hell. 

Despite her family having ties in the mob, she seemed oddly innocent. It wasn’t that she didn’t know what was going on. Once she’d walked into his office with all the confidence of an escort, glanced absently at the grotesque pictures on his desk, and then told him she was going to visit her friend because her dog had just had puppies and _‘oh my God, Mr. Rogers, they’re just so cute!’_. Steve had replied that he hoped she had a good time while also adjusting the aching hard on in his pants.

At some point, it all became less about convenience and more about need. The need to have her by his side, the need to show her off, the need to sneak into her room at night and gaze longingly at the tranquility of her face, the need to possess.

Steve managed to put up with a year of it. A year of short, floaty summer dresses, a year of watching, a year of absent-minded touches. God knows how he’d done it. Every smile she cast his way had him feeling like he would combust, burn up in the intensity of his own need. 

It was your anniversary, and Steve had finally had enough.

Hiding the wine behind his back, Steve cleared his throat and said, “Where are you going?”

You jolted, whirling around with a comically shocked look on your face. You grinned when you saw it was him. “Just about to go out to see my friends. Why? Is something wrong?”

Steve swallowed, his grip on the bottle tightening. “I, uh, don’t you know what day it is?”

“October first, right?” you glanced at the calendar. “Did I - am I forgetting something?”  


Steve revealed the bottle of wine, feeling unbearably foolish. “It’s our anniversary. I thought you might like to spend some time with me?”

“Oh,” you said. You blinked at the wine, recognising it as one of your favourites. “I didn’t know we celebrated that.”

“Why wouldn’t we?” he said, a tad too sharp.

“Well, um, we didn’t do birthdays,” you said, tangling your fingers together and looking away.

Steve grimaced. That wasn’t true. You got him something for his birthday - a cool looking shield with a note on the back about being Brooklyn’s protector. A gag gift but a gift nonetheless. He, on the other hand, had done nothing for yours. Not even a card. He’d been desperately trying to ignore that your marriage was turning into - well, a marriage, so he’d stubbornly ignored the date circled on every calendar in the house and the hopeful looks you’d sent him. 

He’d spent a little longer in your room that night, staring extra hard at your swollen cheeks and red eyes. Punishing himself. 

Steve took in your dress and shoes. The dress brushed your knees and the shoes had only the tiniest heels. Indescribable jealousy filled him, paired with a nice dose of self-hate. It was his own fault. If he’d done more at the beginning then maybe you’d be spending the night with him instead of strange people in an even stranger club.

“Stay home,” he bit out, “with me. Here.”

“Steve, I don’t know,” you said, glancing away. 

He couldn’t stop himself from rushing forward and grabbing your hands as a flood of desperation nearly knocked him to his knees. “Listen, baby, I know I haven’t been the best husband. I know. But - please. Give me a chance and I’ll prove to you just how good I can be.”

You were gaping at him, open-mouthed. “Steve, what? This - this was an arranged marriage. Out of convenience, not love.”

“At first, maybe so,” he nodded, “but then I saw you, I got to know you, and how could I not come to love you? I see the way you look at me, doll, and I know it can’t be much different for you.”

Steve watched as you pinched the hem of your dress between your fingers and tugged on it, a groan catching in his throat. It drove him wild, the way you’d unknowingly play into his biggest fantasies and then flounce away. Not this time, though. This time he’d give chase.

“I know I haven’t acted as a husband should,” he said carefully, coming closer, “touched you, as a husband should. But I want to. God, I’ve wanted to for a long time.”

His eyes flickered over your face, taking everything in. There wasn’t much. Your face was a delicately blank mask. Steve wanted to pull the mask off and see what was beneath.  
So, he took a chance. Reached forward and wrapped his hands around your waist for the first time, pulled you close until you were flush against him.

Then, he kissed you for the first time.

It started off chaste, the barest brush of lips against lips. But Steve had never been a man with much patience. How could he, when you were gasping so sweetly and parting your lips just the tiniest bit? His hand came up to cradle the back of your head, holding you still as he began to fuck your mouth with his tongue, chasing the addictive taste of you.

“Never gonna get enough of this,” he parted from your lips, drinking in the dazed look on your face. Your cheeks were hot to the touch and your lips were plump from the force of his own. His fingers tightened on you. He wanted more of that look, wanted to look at you and know that he was the one responsible for it. 

“Driving me fuckin’ insane, baby,” he kissed a blazing trail down your neck, revisiting spots that made you shudder helplessly in his hold. “Shouldn’t of kept this from me. Bad girl.”  
Steve felt the way you suddenly melted into his arms and knew he’d hit gold.

“You like that?” he asked, pulling back so he could look you in the eye. “Being called a bad girl? I think you’d prefer to be Daddy’s good girl?”

You blinked, reactions slow. “Daddy?”

Steve groaned out loud, enjoying the slow realisation coming to your face. “Yeah, Daddy. Knew you’d like that.”

You placed a trembling hand on his chest, seemingly fascinated with how small it looked against the expanse of his chest. “I - I do.”

“Knew you would,” he repeated, thumbs ghosting over the tops of your breasts, “fuckin’ perfect for me. But, baby, you need to be punished.”

“Punished?” you froze.

“Mhmmm,” he nodded, retreating until your bed hit the back of his legs and he sat down. He patted his knees. “You kept yourself from me, baby. For a whole year. There has to be consequences for that.”

Steve wasn’t really mad, you could see that. Still, uncertainty filled you. You hadn’t ever - you’d never been punished before. Steve patted his knees again and you swallowed. The heat of your core was undeniable, the throbbing of the place you’d only explored in the security of your shower was impossible to ignore. You looked at Steve and you wanted so much. And he would give it to you.

Steve waited until you’d walked close enough for your knees to brush his own. He reached up to grasp your chin between his thumb and forefinger, directing your gaze to his. “Pick a safe word. I won’t do anything I think you won’t like, but I won’t touch you until I have one.”

“Cherries?” you shyly offered.

Steve’s lips curled up. “Perfect. Now, I want you over my knee. One for each month you kept yourself from me. How many is that?”

“Twelve.”

“Twelve, what?”

“Twelve, D-daddy.” you stammered over the word. It felt unfamiliar and clunky in your mouth but it ignited you like nothing else. 

Steve manoeuvred you over his lap until you were resting as comfortably as possible. He flipped up your dress and you squeaked, the feeling of being exposed as unfamiliar as calling someone Daddy. One huge hand came to rub over the skin of your ass, and you wondered if he’d take your panties off.

“Not yet,” he seemed to read your mind. “You can keep these on for now, baby. You gonna be a good girl for me?”

“I will, Daddy,” your voice was almost a whisper. There was a pause, and you wondered if he’d heard.

“Then count.”

You’d never been hit before, not even as a child, so you prepared yourself for the pain. Steve had said you’d like it, but it was something new. How could he be sure? You were tense when the first hit came and your breath hissed out in one long ‘whoosh’ as you ground out ‘one’.

Never had you thought it’d be like this.

“You’re making your panties dirty, baby,” Steve cooed. Fingertips ghosted over your centre and embarrassment engulfed you; no doubt there was a small dark circle. “Let’s see just how much mess you’ll make, hm?”

The third and fourth came in quick succession, giving you almost no time to count. There was pain but it was almost unnoticeable against the throbbing heat of your core. You were uncomfortably aware of the way Steve’s thigh was pressing into your clit and you subtly tried to adjust your position, only to have Steve stop you with a hand on your hip.

“Ah, ah,” he tutted, spankIng you again. “You wait until I say, okay? How are you feeling?”

“Good,” you hiss, “wet.”

You didn’t think it was possible to get any wetter, but as Steve spanked you all the way to month eleven, you began to dissolve into a quivering pile. Your hand was twitching, eager to dart down and rub furiously at your clit. Steve was laughing, but you could feel the hard line of his own arousal pressing into your belly. 

“Last one, baby,” he said, rubbing your cheeks. “You think you can take it?”

“Yes,” you sobbed.

“Good girl.”

Steve’s hand came down in a flash, bestowing upon you the hardest hit yet. It sent you forward, grinding your clit onto his trousers, and you fell apart so fast that you couldn’t even remember what it was like to be together. 

When you came back, Steve was rubbing gentle circles into the skin of your ass. His voice was husky as he asked, “Did my baby just cum from getting spanked?”

His fingers were dipping into your panties already, seeking out the answer for himself. “Your pussy is drenched. You liked it, huh? Like I said you would?”

You were still speechless, brain whirring as it tried to take in the situation. Steve gathered you up and lay you back on the bed, brushing aside hair from your forehead. His gaze was tender despite what had occurred. It made your stomach turn in nervous circles. He scrubbed a hand over his face, taking in your dishevelled state.

“Are you ready to be a good girl for Daddy?” he asked.

You didn’t need to think. “Yes.”

Your panties left a damp trail down the inside of your legs as Steve pulled them down and discarded them. The urge to close your legs was strong but the urge to orgasm was stronger, even though you hadn’t cum even ten minutes ago. Swallowing, you tried to touch your own clit, gauge your sensitivity, but Steve slapped your hand away.

“No, baby,” he rasped, “this is mine. This is Daddy’s cunt, okay?”

Your brain felt as if it was oozing from your own ears. Years ago you’d read up on what to expect for your first time but none of those people had described anything like this. Not that you wanted to stop. Now Steve had set you on this path, you knew you’d never be able to return to before. “O-okay.”

Buttons scattered around the room as Steve tore into the top half of your dress. Your nipples were red and puffy as a result of the fabric on your dress teasing them. Steve hummed appreciably and pinched them before leaning down to soothe the throbbing ache with his tongue. The sensation was indescribable, and the hunger for more almost bowled you over. 

“Need to get you ready,” Steve murmured into your skin, “gonna make this good for you, baby. You’ll never look at another man again without thinking of me.”

“Only you,” you agreed, watching as large hands brushed the thatch of gentle curls at the apex of your thighs. “I- I haven’t ever -”  
Steve paused, his head shooting up. You almost gasped. His eyes were wild. “You’ve never done this before?”

“No - well, I have kissed before but I’ve never -” you swallowed, feeling panic rising in your chest, “-you know.”

“No man has ever touched you here?” he purred. “Sank his fingers into this soft cunt and made you cum?”

“No,” you mewled. The dirty talk was making you boneless.

“Good,” he grunted. Your legs shook as he leaned down to press a kiss against your clit. “You’ll only have this now; only have me.”

It was a blur, then. The way he did as he promised; sank thick fingers into your heat and slowly stretched you until you were begging for something you’d never even had before. But you knew it would be good if it was with Steve. Everything would be good with Steve.

Steve stepped back for a moment, discarded his clothes in the same pile as your panties until he was as bare as you. You scrambled to pull your dress from your waist, wanting to feel him against you. It burned, the need. You’d barely begun and sweat was already beading along your hairline, dampening your collarbones. It only added to the heady atmosphere.  
Steve’s cock was a work of art. You didn’t need experience to know that. You’d seen things before, snuck looks at your friend’s racy magazines they brought into school. Never had you wanted to touch before, to take the red tip into your mouth and suck. A bead of precum gathered on the tip and Steve swiped it off, absently pumped it a few times whilst gazing down at you.

Slowly, he sank his knees back into the mattress and crawled over you. You shook when his cock brushed your legs, leaving lines of precum that glistened in the light. 

You glanced down and swallowed. “That’s big, Daddy.”

Steve groaned and ducked his head down, licking a stripe up your neck and ending it in a bite. “I know, baby. But you’re gonna take it.”

He pulled your legs a little wider, opening your further to his prying gaze. Cock in hand, he slid it forward through your arousal, sliding up until it bumped your clit. Your body jolted automatically and you let out a quiet moan. Steve repeated the movement a few times, until his cock was shiny with your fluids. It aroused you more than you’d expected. You were rapidly learning that Steve Rogers couldn’t be held to the same expectations as the average man.

Finally, he pressed the tip to your opening. Eyes darted back and forth from your pussy to your face, eagerly drinking in every reaction. You prepared yourself for the hurt, for that pinch that so many others described, but it never came. There was only a slight, brief, discomfort but that vanished as soon as he was fully seated.

_Fully seated. Inside you. Your husband, for the first time._

“Oh, baby,” Steve’s voice was shaky and it made you feel oddly prideful. “Shouldn’t have waited so long. Should’ve fucked you like this on our wedding night.”

Your eyes rolled back and you clenched around his cock, driving a heavy curse from his lips. Tilting your hips, you signalled that you wanted him to move. And like a good husband, Steve obliged.

It wasn’t slow; there was no need. Steve had worked you up enough to have you gagging for it, to have you scratching at his back every time he dared to slow the brutish pace. He raised your legs as high as your muscles would allow and then some, fucking you so deep that you’d feel him for days. 

He leaned back, splayed his hand on your chest and made you take everything. There was no way to hide your face and he eagerly took in every moan, every time you squeezing your eyes shut or gasped at a particular thrust. He said he would make it good for you and Steve Rogers never broke a promise.

Carnal want consumed you both, dissolving everything else until there was nothing left but the two of you fucking frantically on your bed. The slick sound of your pussy opening up around his cock had your gripping at his forearms, pulling him closer until his forehead rested on yours and your noses were bumping together.

“Daddy’s gonna take you apart and put you back together,” his voice was uneven as he trembled above you. “Gonna take real good care of you, like I should’ve been. Sleepin’ with me from now on, baby. Never gonna let you out of my sight.”

You exhaled shakily, yours and Steve’s breaths mingling. You felt your soul pulling from your chest, meeting Steve’s and tangling. Winding together, never to be apart again. Like it was meant to be. 

Your second orgasm was sprung upon you, entirely unexpected. Shuddering beneath him, you felt yourself calling his name, calling him Daddy, and plummeting over the edge. It was easy to let go once you knew he’d catch you.

Steve followed seconds after, stilling above you as he emptied wave after wave inside you. Instead of slipping out, Steve only rolled the both of you to the side, bringing you close to his sweaty chest. It was euphoric, the feeling of being cherished after something so intense. 

“Which one do you like best?” he asked suddenly.

“Um, what?”

“Which room?” he elaborated, leaning back to get a better look at you. “Mine or yours?”

“I haven’t really seen yours.”

“That’s going to change,” he grinned, the expression charmingly boyish. “I’ll ask again in a couple of days.”

You felt him stirring inside of you and gasped. He thrust experimentally, eyes fluttering at the new angle. You ground out, “how will I answer if I have no time to think?”

“Honey, if you’re thinking then I’m not doing this right,” he answered, rotating his hips into yours. “Am I? Doing it right?”

Every coherent thought you’d ever had flew out the window. _“Yes, Daddy.”_


	8. bouquet

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> You're a single mother and Dark!Andy Barber has his sights set on you and your son.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  **Warnings** : 18+, Past abusive relationships, reader is a single mother, Dark!Andy Barber, stalking, unhealthy obsession, no smut because I’m thinking about doing a part two

A month later and you had finally recieved a restraining order. Through blood, sweat and tears, you’d made it happen. You'd pried yourself from the claws of that ham-handed bastard, marched yourself to the station, filed the necessary reports and got that restraining order. It had taken longer than it should have, but that was how things tended to be in these situations. You’d sucked it up and kept it moving. For yourself and for your son.

Initially, you’d been a little concerned. You’d read too many horror stories about ignored restraining orders and women who ended up dead, their children taken by some deranged ex. But by some stroke of luck, a few days after you got the restraining order, Tommy moved out of town. You'd been all too happy to see the back of him, but the feeling of needing to watch your own never quite seemed to fade.

The house seemed too quiet, especially whenever Isiah was taking a nap. You'd intended to go back to work but the doctors had said you needed to take it easy. A broken leg didn’t just heal itself. 

Every time you looked at it was a reminder of what you had endured. Sometimes that made you feel empowered, sometimes it made you feel unbearably weak. You tried not to pay it too much attention but the cast was clumsy and took up too much room. It was impossible. So, you let Isiah scribble all over it, took it in stride and kept it moving. Like always.

Until the first bouquet of flowers appeared on your door step, anyway.

Immediately you’d broken out into a nervous sweat. The faint sound of Isiah gurgling away in his high chair had broken you out of your trance and you’d reached down to snatch them up, frantically look for a note. An apology (insincere, of course) from Tommy. Something. Anything.

No note fluttered to the ground or poked out from the petals. There was nothing. Somehow, that was worse. So, you marched down the steps and shoved them in your black bin. You didn’t care if the neighbours were watching - they could mind their business. They'd done it well enough when Tommy had shoved you out of your own house, blue and black. 

That night had seemed quieter than usual. You hadn't slept at all.

The second bouquet appeared a week later. Different flowers but in the exact same spot. No note. This time you put them directly in the bin and headed to the police station. They couldn’t do anything about it but it wouldn't hurt to make them aware. 

An officer called you that night and told you that Tommy’s family hadn’t heard from him since he left town. As expected, his mother was calling you a lunatic and accusing you of wanting him back. Something in the officer’s tone made you think they were inclined to agree. You scoffed and hung up.

The next day, you went and bought a gun.

It didn’t help. The next two weeks bought with them five different bouquets. Same situation - different flowers every time and no note. They weren't cheap, either. Out of desperation you even tried to track down the florist but that was a dead end.

The sixth bouquet arrived on a Saturday afternoon. Only this time, a white scrap of paper was poking out from amongst the colourful blooms. Your blood ran cold. 

It stuck out like a sore thumb. It literally was a scrap of paper, jagged edges proving it had been torn away from something else. The juxtaposition of it compared with the flawless flowers had you feeling uneasy. 

Uneasiness quickly lead to fury, and you stooped down to snatch them up, petals flying every where. You’d disposed of them every where you could think of - in the black bin, public bins, the neighbour’s bins. This time, you wound your arm up and launched them directly into the road in a fluttering mass of red petals. Roses. They were roses.

It wasn’t until you were walking back up to your house that you heard it - Isiah was laughing. High pitched and childish, it bought a smile to your lips. 

That is, until you realised the front door was wide open.

In seconds you were inside, phone in hand, barreling your way toward your child. He was still laughing, only this time it invoked a deep, sickening fear inside of you. 

A breath of relief puffed from your chest when you charged into the living room. Isiah was on his back on the play mat, where you’d left him, reaching up to tug at the huge stuffed bear your mother had bought him. Letting the phone slip from your hand, you dropped down onto your knees to join him.

“Hell, baby,” you cooed, “my bab--”

A scream caught in your throat at the blur of red you had failed to notice. Isiah gurgled at the expression on your face, waving his chunky arms in the air for you to see. In his right hand, he was clutching a rose. 

The police came and went, explaining to you what they had already explained a thousand times before. There was no proof anyone had been in the house - Isiah could’ve gotten the rose from the bouquet you’d received - and flowers were not seen as a threat. Plus, Tommy hadn’t been seen in weeks. All in all, your complaint was pretty flawed. 

You watched them leave. When they drove off, petals kicked up behind them and danced in the wind. You scowled and slammed the door shut, locking it behind yourself. Pointless. They were so pointless.

Tiredly, you scrubbed at your eyes. It was almost five o’clock and you still hadn’t eaten since this morning. Isiah was probably hungry, too. You picked him up from his mat and slotted him in his high chair. He slammed his hands on the hard plastic, knowing it meant food. You stroked hair from his eyes and kissed him gently on the forehead.

“You’re a wonderful mother.”

Dread seeped into your bones. Isiah was still shuffling happily, grinning a toothless grin at whoever was behind you. Because it wasn’t Tommy. You’d recognise his voice anywhere. 

Whoever was behind you was a stranger. 

“Here,” the voice said, coming closer. “I can feed him.”

That got you to move. You shot up, head clashing into the intruder’s chin. They swore and the glass jar fell to the floor, shattering instantly. You tried to unclip Isiah from his chair but it was too complicated and, before you knew it, a heavy hand was coming down on your shoulder.

Blue eyes. Brown hair. Authoritative voice. “Sit down, baby. You’re going to scare him.”

You watched as the stranger pulled up a chair and gestured for you to sit down. Hands shaking, you did so without question. It had taken you a long time to stop blindly obeying - and now this stranger was setting you all the way back with just one look. Your blood was slugging through your veins, making you fatigued and light-headed. None of it felt real.

The man reached into the cupboard for another jar of baby food. Unscrewed the lid in one smooth, practiced move. Your eyes fluttered when he went straight for the cutlery draw without having to search. Like he already knew.

He pulled up his own chair in front of Isiah. Your hands twitched but he tutted. “You can trust me, honey. I know what I’m doing. Here, Isiah! Yummy!”

You watched as Isiah accepted the spoonful, swaying happily in his chair. Your brain was fuzzy, not working correctly. Isiah was sometimes funny with strangers and even funnier with men but he - he was letting this man feed him as if he knew him.

“Oh, God,” you groaned, feeling suddenly sick.

The next few minutes were a blur as you threw up repeatedly into a bucket. When you came back to reality, the man was patting your back and Isiah was watching with an almost concerned look in intelligent eyes. _My eyes_ , you thought.

“How are you feeling?” the man asked, picking up the spoon to resume feeding Isiah.

“Why are you in my house?” you gritted out, hands clenching at the way he was being to nonchalant with your son.

“I understand that this might be hard for you,” he continued, ignoring you, “a lot of changes to take in. You’re a strong woman, though. Part of what drew me to you. You’ll be happy in the end. I can take care of you - take care of _both_ of you.”

“ _Who are you_?” you tried again.

The man grinned, showing far too many teeth for it to be friendly. Isiah slapped at his wrist, wrapping one chubby hand around the man’s finger and bringing it to his mouth to gnaw on. _He only does that with me_ , you thought absently. 

“Andy,” the man beamed, “ and I'm going to be your husband.”


	9. mob boss*

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> REQUEST: Mob boss Steve and innocent reader not knowing that he is a mob!boss and finding out when she sees his paperwork or him interrogating someone and him thinking that she’s going to be scared of him now??

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  **Warnings** : 18+, slightly dark, desperate Steve, death of a character but not major or descriptive, fingering, dry humping, dirty talk, pet names

For a moment, everything stopped. Silence so thick that you could hear a pin drop. Every muscle in your body seemed to tense and then release in some ancient fight or flight reflex. The plate you’d been holding slipped from your grip and shattered to the floor in one big motion. 

Every eye in the room turned to you.

The man tied to the chair laughed, broken but mocking. “Wow, you’ve sure been hiding a real treat from the rest of us, Cap.”

There was a hacking noise and then he spat, a big glob of rust-coloured spit landing at your feet. It took a few seconds for your brain to catch on and when it did you staggered back, holding onto the door frame for support.

Your boyfriend, Steve - or Cap, your brain helpfully supplied- whirled on the man with a ferocious speed. His body blocked your sight but suddenly the man was screaming and - then he wasn’t. 

Steve turned around and held out both hands, a placating gesture. “C’mere, sweetheart.” his voice was calm but you detected an underlying hint of desperation that was mirrored on his face.

So handsome, you thought. Even with the blood.  
“I only wanted to bring you some apple pie,” you said. It sounded so odd, so out of place, in the dingy room that you almost laughed.

You took a step back and Steve did one forward. Your heart beat was through the roof and you absently rubbed a hand over your breast. It was hard to think, especially in the room where the scent of blood was so cloying that it was all you could smell.

“ _Don’t,_ ” Steve said. 

One minute you were standing in the doorway, staring into blue eyes, and the next minute the wallpaper of the hallway was whizzing by as you ran. And you ran. Blood pumping, lungs burning, eyes blurred. 

You could hear him behind you, calling your name so desperately that you almost stopped. But you didn't because - what then? Would he have to dispose of you? Tell you that you’d seen too much? The thought spurred you on and you almost lost him on one sharp corner.

“Fuck, _sweetheart_ ,” he ground out. He sounded so close that it was almost as if he’d whispered in your ear. _“Stop!”_

You screamed as he got one hand around your upper arm. He yanked you into his chest and pressed your front against the wall. You threw your head back into his chin and he hissed. Still, his hold didn’t loosen.

“Calm down,” he pressed his face into your hair, as if willing the words directly into your brain. “Calm down, sweetheart. Please. For me.”

Somehow, your body was still listening to him even though your mind wished desperately to revolt. You sagged against his body and he supported your weight, angling the both of you until you could slide down onto the floor. A clock chimed somewhere in the house and you pressed your head into the floor. It had only been a few minutes but it felt like an eternity.

“You weren’t meant to find out like that,” Steve said. He slipped his fingers under your chin and forced your gaze on his. “I’m so sorry, sweetheart.”

“You - you killed a man, Steve,” you murmured. You wanted to want to slap his fingers from your face, but you didn’t. It still felt good, even if you know knew what those hands were capable of.

“I know,” Steve paused, then exhaled a long breath, “but when he said that about you, when he spat at you, I saw red. He deserved it.”

“I don’t know if I can do this,” you admitted. It was almost a lie. The man before you was not something you wanted to give up, even though you could now see the specks of blood on his shiny exterior. Your fingers were curled around him so tight, both metaphorically and in reality, that they were white.

“No,” he moaned, pressing close. “Don’t say that. I- you can’t. Don’t you see? I’m still the same man, sweetheart. I love you.”

You opened your mouth to reply but Steve was pressing a bruising kiss to your lips, laying claim to your soul.It was an awkward angle; you pressed into the floor on your front and Steve hovering over your back, but he was making it work. 

There was a sinful kind of desperation in the way that his hands were searching your clothes, looking for a way it. The adrenaline was making your head spin and your pussy ache. You didn’t try to stop him. 

Steve managed to work his hand underneath your stomach, dipping down until he got to your leggings. He palmed you over them, pressed the heel of his hand into your clit and you keened, ass arching up into his crotch. Steve answered you with a moan of his own, grinding the hard line of his cock down onto your ass.

His hand worked it’s way into your leggings, bypassing your panties until his fingers made contact with the wet heat of your pussy.

“Remember this,” he urged you, “this is how it is, how it’s always been with me. I’m still the same man. Let me make you feel good, sweetheart.”

“Yes,” you begged, “yes, Steve.”

With one finger dipping into your entrance and the other rubbing circles into your clit, Steve took you apart like his favourite kind of present. When it got unbearable and you tried to squirm away, he was there to press you back into his fingers and urge you to take everything he had to give. 

You were acutely aware of his cock pressing into your ass, bumping and rubbing every time you arched back into him. A distant memory brushed your mind - you’d done this before. 

“Steve,” you cooed, “my Steve.”

“Yes, yours,” Steve answered, whispering directly into your ear. “I’m still your Steve.”

He slipped another finger in, curling it just right. “What about this, sweetheart? Are you mine?”

“Steve,” you cried out. The heady atmosphere was one you were unlikely to forget. Steve was entwined with you forever, carved into your future. The words danced on the tip of your tongue but refused to fall off.

When Steve pulled away, you were left trembling and unsure. He was quick to reassure you with gentle hands and mouth, a probing tongue that swept over your body, searching out imperfections and caressing them with tender love. There would be no coming back from this. Steve was making sure of it.

Steve asked again, “Are you mine, sweetheart? Just mine?” 

The words came freely, flowing, this time. Steve swallowed them with one thorough kiss, taking them and everything else.

“Yes, Steve. Yours.”


	10. dad's best friend*

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Request: What do you think about dad's best friend Steve and innocent reader? Like Steve's kinda manipulative and hot and reader's too naive and he tricks her into having sex with her, she's reluctant at first but lowkey was always attracted to him so gives in and that results in smutty goodness. Also umm can you throw in daddy kink in the mix as I can't seem to send any requests without including it?😅🤭❤️ I hope it is not too much.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  **Warnings** : 18+, age gap, softdark!Steve, possessive!Steve, reader is in her twenties, daddy kink, dirty talk, curse words, smut, come play, unprotected sex

Warily you eyed the clock on the wall. The mug in your hands had long since gone cold. It was still half full. The liquid sloshed in the cup with every twitch or awkward shift and there were many. Your father was meant to pick you up from Steve’s almost an hour ago and he still hadn't shown.

“Um,” you called out, “maybe we should text him?”

“We can do,” Steve replied, his voice floating from the kitchen, “but I don’t think it’ll be much use - oh, damn!”

Steve appeared in the doorway, dish cloth thrown over his shoulder and phone in hand. “I asked him to come at eight instead of six. My bad.”

You checked the clock again. It had only just gone ten to seven. You sighed and relaxed back into the sofa. “It’s fine. Do you want help with those dishes?”

You followed Steve back into his kitchen and settled into an easy rhythm; he washed and you dried. The silence was welcome and it was easy to get yourself lost in such a simple task.

Steve had saved your ass today. The rain had been torrential and Steve lived close to your college, almost an entire hour closer than your family. The wasn't normally an issue but it was a weekend and you’d been looking forward to spending it with them. 

Steve’s elbow brushed your arm. “Alright there, doll?”

“Yeah, yeah,” you nodded, “just looking forward to spending the weekend with family.”

Steve’s lips quirked up as he nudged you again. “Am I not family enough for you, doll?”

You glanced at him from the corner of your eye. The blue eyes, dark blonde hair. Broad shoulders and a beard that you wanted to slide your fingers into...sigh. You shook your head. “Sure you are.” and that was the problem.

Steve stared at you for a moment longer. Sometimes it felt as if he was looking right into you, peeling your brain open like a diary and flicking through all your dirtiest thoughts. A shudder ran down your spine and you looked away, embarrassed. God forbid. 

Eventually the sink was clean of dishes. A glance at the clock told you it had only even ten minutes. Taking in a deep breath, you moved to sink back into the couch. 

“Wait a minute,” Steve said, “I’ve got something I want you to take a look at.”

Steve was waiting at the bottom of the stairs and began heading up once you reached him. The walls were devoid of any kind of picture, though there was a chest in the upstairs hall that had a framed photo of him and your father. Steve had always been a great family friend and had spent many a weekend young your house. Now you were wondering what that might have cost him. Had he ever been lonely?

Steve led you into his bedroom and you followed without question. Your cheeks flared at the rumbled bed sheets and you averted your eyes. You felt like a pervert. Steve was stood by the side of his bed. He picked something off of the bedside table and when he turned to show you, your lips parred.

“You remember this?” he said. “Only a year or so old, I think. I’m not usually one for photos but I saw this and - you just looked so beautiful.”

The light gleamed off of the photo, illuminating your grin immortalised by the camera. Steve was right; it was only a year old. You’d been embarrassed and had stopped your family from ordering the photo once the sample had been sent out. Your hair looked a little too frazzled, your grin a little too wide. Apparently that hadn’t mattered to Steve.

“Why do you have that?” you asked. The question sat heavy in the air, weighing you down. You swallowed and your tongue felt clumsy in your mouth.

Steve hummed thoughtfully, turning the photo back to himself and stroking a thumb down the side. The silence was heavy. Then, a slight tilt of his head, and he was looking back at you. “I think you know why, doll.”

A shaky breath shoved its way past your lips and you took a step back. Never had you - there had been looks but - he was your father’s best friend. 

You shook your head. “No, Steve. I - no. It’s just a silly crush --”

“Maybe to you,” Steve interrupted. He discarded the picture on the bed and you watched it bounce. “But not for me. I have loved you for years. Do you know how it felt when - finally - one day you looked at me and it just clicked? You could never have hid how you felt. Not from me.”

“Steve, my dad --”

“Doesn’t have to know,” he spoke quickly. He reached out and his hand brushed your face. At some point he’d cornered you, and now he was the only thing between you and the door. “I’ve thought about it. I - we can do this. You spend a lot of time here all ready so he won’t bat an eye --”

“Steve, no.”

It was hard to watch. Steve flinched suddenly, as if he’d been hit. The hand by your face was shaking badly and the urge to reach out and take was a strong one. 

You’d lied to him. It was more than a crush. But hiding something of this extent from your parents? You’d never done anything of the sort before, didn’t know if you could start doing it now.

Steve’s hands suddenly cupped your face, angling it up toward his. You opened your mouth to speak but he silenced you with a kiss. You’d like to say that you struggled but - you didn’t. It was disturbingly easy to melt into the affection, open your mouth under his tongue and let his it sweep in. You went limp and surrendered yourself to it. 

Steve parted from you but not for long. He had you pinned to the wall with his body as his lips were caressing your gave and moving down your neck. “Don’t say that to me, doll. I’ve waited for so long and - I have to have you.”

The heat in his tone made you whimper and he swallowed the sound with his own mouth, ensuring your attention remained solely on him. It’s yours, you wanted to say, has been yours for so long.

An exhale shakily parted your lips when you felt the line of his cock press into your stomach. Your pussy clenched automatically at the thought of it, at the thought of Steve fucking you and slowly taking you apart with it. You dug your fingers into Steve's hair, tugging when he bit particularly hard at the long line of your neck.

The room swirled around you as Steve pulled you from the wall and to the direction of his bed. You went willingly, whimpering when the heat of his hands and mouth left you for too long. It was finally happening and you were desperate for it. If he stopped now or turned away you felt as if you'd die. A fire had started in your core and was steadily working its way through your body, trails of it left wherever Steve’s hands went.

“Don’t stop,” you managed, your voice ragged to your own ears. “Touch me, Steve.”

“Won’t,” Steve bit back, “can’t. Not Steve, darling girl. Daddy.”

Daddy. Now you were considering if Steve really had peeked inside your head at some point. 

Your pussy was pulsing along with your heartbeat, desperate for touch. You arched your back and pressed your breasts into Steve’s hands. Steve tweaked at your nipples through the fabric and then pulled it down, freeing your breasts. The urge to cover yourself came and went as Steve enveloped your nipples in his hot mouth, sucking hard enough to have you crying out. Your body was writing underneath his.

He parted from your breast with a ‘pop’ and his hands went to your jeans. The sound of your zipper coming down had your nerves flaring but then he was yanking them from your body hard enough to leave red marks and your panties were quick to follow.

Steve’s eyes fixated on the space between your legs and he inhaled noisily, sweeping a trembling hand across his mouth. “Fuck, doll. You want Daddy to touch your pretty cunt?”

“Daddy, yes,” you answered frantically. Burning up.  


Despite the hunger in his gaze, Steve’s fingers trailed languidly across your pussty. His thumb swiped your clit and you shook. He used two fingers to part your lips, opening you to his careful gaze. The urge to rush him was strong, but you also understood. Steve was an artist. He’d want to see it all, take it in, tuck the details to this back of his mind for later. 

Your body flared up again at the thought of later. The image of Steve laid in this very bed, naked, hand around his cock, almost had you coming spontaneously. “Daddy, I can’t wait much longer.”

Steve hummed, eyes flickering back up to your face. They stayed that way, darting between your pussy and your face as he slid two fingers in to the knuckle. They went smoothly and you felt your arousal leaking around them. The thought of it pooling on the bed made you hotter and you felt almost dizzy.

Steve lazily fucked you open with them, humming appreciatively at the wet sound that soon came every time they pushed in. He leaned down and pressed a tender kiss to your belly, inhaling deeply. 

“Feels good, doll? My fingers in your pretty cunt?” he purred.

“Oh, God, yes,” you breathed, hips stuttering on the bed. “Need more.”

You cried out when his fingers pulled out and didn’t return. Pink lips parted and you watched as he took his fingers into his own mouth, sucking hungrily at your arousal. Then he was reaching for his shirt and tearing it off to join your jeans in the corner. His own followed and you gasped when his cock sprang up and brushed his belly button.

The head was an angry red and was damp with precum. Your mouth watered and the urge to taste rose up but you pushed it aside for another time. Steve fisted his cock and pumped it a few times, eyes more black than blue. He looked starved. 

“Gonna let me slide into that pretty cunt?” he rasped. The bed dipped as he got on, getting on his knees in front of you. “Fuck you stupid?”

“Yes,” you cooed, “anything, Daddy.”

Your legs jolted when Steve grabbed them and used them to pull you closer. His cock bobbed against his thigh and brushed against yours. It made you embarrassingly close to begging. Fast was not fast enough. You wanted to feel it all and you wanted to feel it now. 

The head of his cock caressed your clit and you sighed, relaxing into Steve’s hold. He had one hand at your hip and the other was guiding his cock to your pussy. The sight was more erotic that you’d been prepared for and he cooed when your pussy clenched again around nothing.

“Gonna get you nice and full,” he promised, “watch me leaking out of you.”

The stretch was welcome, and God, it was a stretch. Steve pushed forward until his hips were flush against yours. There was no pain, only a distinct feeling of being deliciously and utterly full. Just like he’d promised.

You rolled your hips experimentally and let your head fall back at the sensation. Still not enough. When both of Steve’s hands came to push your legs further apart and then cup your hips you shuddered in relief. 

“Been thinking about this so long,” he bit out. “Never gonna get enough of this cunt. Mine.”

Steve slid away until only the tip was remaining and then pulled your hips down at the same time he pushed forward. He sank you down onto his cock and watched as he disappeared inside of you and your arousal leaked out around his cock. It was a sight he’d never get enough of.

The pace didn’t remain slow for long. Soon the room was loud with the sound of his hips snapping together with yours and the soft appreciative coos he gave every time you moaned for him. He set a rhythm that allowed you no respite and made you take everything he was giving you, made you feel it all.

“Say it,” he urged. “say you’re mine. Tell me who this cunt belongs to.”

“Yours, Daddy,” you cried out, “’m yours.”

“Fucking right,” he groaned as he altered the position, leaning down until he was held up by his forearms around you. Your breasts pressed into his chest and when your nipples brushed against his you almost sobbed. 

Your orgasm didn’t creep up on you, it was loud and left trails of fire in its wake as it thoroughly ravaged you and left you limp beneath Steve. His pace stuttered at the sensations of your nails digging crescent shapes into his back and your pussy clenching wildly around his cock. Hips pressed tight to yours, cock seated deep, he let himself go. The feel of his release inside of you had him twitching already and you moaned. 

“Good girl,” he purred, “been so good for me. Was always meant to be like this.”

Steve didn’t pull out, only rolled to his side and manoeuvred your limbs until you were lying quite comfortably beside him. You caught a glimpse of the clock beside him and suddenly went cold. “Steve, my dad.”

“It’s okay, doll,” he spoke through a yawn, “he’s not coming till tomorrow.”

Too tired to argue, you let yourself relax back into his arms. Something sharp was poking your thigh and you swept your arm out, knocking the picture onto the floor. As you stared at the path it had taken, you knew Steve was right. It was always meant to be like this.


	11. precious thing*

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dark!Sugar Daddy Steve proposes to Reader. She says no but he's quick to convince her.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  **Warnings** : 18+, dub-con, Daddy Kink, age gap, sugar daddy, Dark!Steve Steve is slightly rough and extremely desperate, smut, talk of cock warming, squirting, dirty talk, unprotected sex

“Marry me.”

You laughed, the sound tinkling around the room like tiny balls of light. “Steve. Daddy. C’mon, get up before you hurt your knees.” you teased.

A smile flitted across his lips for a brief moment, but then it was gone and the seriousness of the situation began to sink in. Steve. On his knees in front of you. Greying hair shining in the candle night. Both of your plates half-finished but completely forgotten.

You tried again. “Daddy, seriously.”

“I’m not joking, baby,” Steve said. You opened your mouth to interrupt but then he continued, “I’ve had this ring since the day I met you. I - I knew it would be you.”

Your hand fluttered helplessly around your collarbones, torn between covering your mouth and loosening the neck of your dress. The dress that Steve had bought you. The thought made it harder to breathe so you settled for tugging at the collar, loosening it for a breath that just wasn’t coming. 

“Steve, you can’t be serious,” you said, “I - this was never about that. It was an easy arrangement, one beneficial for both of us. That’s all.”

Steve still wasn’t getting off of his knee and it was making you feel frantic. What was he thinking? 

Steve breathed in slowly through his nose. He was angry. “Okay, I see now. This is…my fault. I should’ve made you aware of my intentions from the start - “

“Intentions?” you gaped.

“Yes,” he insisted, “marriage, children. A wife I can spoil. It’s you, baby. Don’t you want that? With me?”

The room was spinning, his words echoing in your mind. A part of your mind whispered accusingly, ‘Well, didn’t you? Isn’t this your fault? You lead him on?’. 

“No, Steve,” you said firmly, “I don’t.”

Instantly his gaze hardened. You shrank back in your chair, itching to make a mad dash for the door. You jumped when he snapped the box shut, the shining gem out of sight. The temperature in the room seemed to cool but your skin felt clammy, sticky to the touch. 

You gasped when Steve reached out and snatched your wrists, yanking you up so hard that your hip connected with the table hard enough to make a bang. Pain radiated from the area but you were occupied by the way Steve was almost dragging you down the corridor, toward his room.

“Jesus,” you cried, “what the fuck is wrong with you? Get off of me, Steve - “

“No,” he hissed, yanking you to his face. “That’s not my name, baby.”

“You think I’m going to call you Daddy now? After this?” you spat. 

“You’ll call me what I want you to call me,” he answered, one hand twisting the door knob. “Get in.”

He shoved you in hard enough to have you stumble a few steps. The heels you were wearing made it hard to get your balance and made it easier for Steve to push you back toward the bed. Your ass made contact with the mattress and you bounced, Steve’s figure spinning before your eyes. 

“You should have said yes,” he spoke through gritted teeth, busying himself with unbuttoning his shirt. “You will say yes. I just have to convince you.”

“Steve, no,” you insisted, but your voice was wavering. Steve was busying himself with undoing his belt and the sound of the leather (hiss, snap) had a burst of heat blooming in your core.

“I’m worth it, baby,” he promised. “Let me show you.”

You cried out when he pushed you back on the bed, keeping you pinned with one hand splayed across your sternum. He was down to his boxers now and your could see the head of his cock poking out of the waistband, precum beading on the tip. Your traitorous mouth watered and you licked your lips. Steve’s eyes followed the motion and he groaned, reaching down to palm himself. 

“W - wait! Steve, please, you can have anyone else -”

“No,” he hissed vehemently, “I can’t. I tried it and there’s only you for me.”

“What are you talking about?” you snapped. You cried out when his hand slid a few inches to the left and squeezed your breast, palm grinding into your nipple and sending shocks of pleasure to your clit.

“Before I met you,” he said, leaning down to lick a stripe up your neck, “I’d been with at least ten different girls. They were either too much or too little, none what I needed them to be.”  
Steve tilted your head to kiss you but you turned your head at the last minute and his lips landed on your cheek. He huffed a laugh but his grip grew a little tighter. “Play nice, baby. You won’t like it if you don’t.”

He wedged himself between your thighs, the hard line of his cock fitting perfectly between your folds. You’d forgone panties that night, eager to please Steve. A part of you still was, and it made your back arch and your cunt grind into him.

“That’s it,” he encouraged, sucking a love bite into your collarbones. It would look at home with the copious others. “That’s what I need. You’re what I need.”

An argument danced on the tip of your tongue but was swallowed by Steve, his hungry mouth covering yours with an intensity you’d never felt before. It was far too easy to melt into it, move your mouth in tandem with his and accept whatever he gave you. It was all you knew.

Warm fingers delved into your folds and parted you, exposing you to the cold air and making you shiver. Steve covered your body with his, sharing his warmth in the same way he’d shared every other part of himself with you. Of course, you accepted. 

The heady atmosphere was making you feel lightheaded. Drunk, almost. You bit back a moan when Steve circled your clit with his finger, teetering on the side of pain. He’d promised that if you behaved, he’d make it good for you. You raised your head and kissed him, swallowing his hungry groan as he pushed two thick fingers into the heat of your cunt.

“Take it, baby,” he softly praised, “taking them so well. You ready for my cock?”

“Need your cock, Daddy,” you panted, “put it inside.”

Steve kept you parted, taking a good long look while he pulled his cock over the waistband of his boxers. He didn’t want to take the time to remove them, too afraid that you’d suddenly come to your senses and scramble from his bed. The thought made his blood run cold so he kissed you again as a distraction. He wanted you cock drunk, head filled only with thoughts of him. It was only right, since all that occupied his was you you you.

He pushed into you with one thrust, filling you to the brim. Exhaling shakily, Steve pulled back a little to admire the scene of him welded inside your hot cunt. Next time he’d take a picture, make it the background for his phone and laptop. For his eyes only, of course. He wasn’t the sharing kind of man.

“You wanted to take this away from me,” he cooed, “and I’ll punish you for that another time. Tonight I want to show you how good we are together. Make you think about how pretty you’d look with my ring on your finger.”

The box was on the bed, next to your head. You glanced up at it and Steve swore when you clenched around him. At first you’d been scared, but now…

“Please, Daddy,” you begged, quivering on the end of his cock, “I want you to fuck me.”

Steve hips languidly met yours, driving small gasps and quiet whimpers from your throat. He’d always given you what you wanted. Tonight he’d give you what you needed. He fucked you lazily, just grazing that spot inside of you but not enough. One thumb stroked your clit, so gently that the pressure was almost non-existent. 

“That’s it,” he exhaled raggedly, admiring the sight of your cunt spread around his cock. It looked right. You were so tight around him that he was half convinced he’d never to be able to get out and fuck, that was a thought for another day. You, sitting on his cock while he maybe did some work, maybe bucking up into you once in a while just to keep you desperate. 

Your cunt was so sensitive that you felt it easily when Steve finally began to speed up. Your nails dug into his back, carving half crescent shapes that wouldn’t fade for long after he’d pulled out.  
His breath was tickling your ears, adding to the multitude of sensations that had you feeling crazed. 

“Oh, God,” you purred, “Daddy.”

“I know, baby,” he assured you, fucking into you with a force that rattled the bed frame. “I know. Should’ve fucked you like this before I asked you to marry me, huh?”

And there you were, dangling on the precipice but unable to fall off. You were almost gagging for it, your senses full of nothing but Steve. Daddy. The temptation to hide your face was a strong one but Steve had you pinned in place with a sharp gaze. Disobeying was not an option. 

Then Steve was dipping his tongue into your ear, whispering filthy words, and you were beyond it all. Vaguely you felt yourself gushing around him, soaking the bedsheet and his thighs. Steve was quick to follow you, the shock of your orgasm propelling him over the edge. He thrust once more, settling himself deep inside you and releasing. The warmth spread and you shuddered, suddenly shy.

Steve looked at you through dark eyes. “Marry me.”

This time it wasn’t a question. There was nothing else to say. 

“Yes, Daddy.”


	12. tender light*

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bucky wakes up with you.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  _Warnings_ : 18+ mostly fluff, smut because I can’t be fucking controlled, curse words

For so long, Bucky had thought that he’d never get a happy ending. That’d he’d never get better, never save the world or meet the girl.

He was still working on getting better and saving the world but he’d definitely met the girl.

It was early morning and the sun was daring to peek through the curtains, soft light hitting your face just enough for you to look angelic. Bucky leaned up slightly on his elbow, lips parting as he took in the wonder that was your face. 

The clock on the bedside table read five o’clock and Bucky sank back into the pillows. Early mornings weren’t your thing and he didn’t want to wake you. 

The minutes slid through his fingers like water. He wasn’t bored. Mornings were his favourite because you weren’t awake to tell him to stop staring or hide your face beneath a mountain of pillows. He could watch your face uninterrupted for as long as he pleased. 

Only after it had just gone six did he dare to touch. Six o’clock was still early but his fingers were twitching restlessly. Your skin was the only thing that would soothe them. 

Gently, Bucky tugged the blanket back from your face and further until your bare back was exposed. You slept on your stomach with your arms spread to the side, taking up more than your fair share of bed. It was okay. Bucky didn’t mind. Having to split the bed in half never made sense to him anyway. What was the point in sharing at all if he wasn’t as close to you as physically possible?

One finger traced the shape of your nose. Bucky shuddered, glad that you weren’t awake to see him fall apart just because he was staring at your face. He let his eyes flutter shut and just felt, committing your face to memory for the hundredth time. Bucky knew how fickle memory could be but he was confident that he’d done this enough times that if he was wiped again (God forbid) your face would be the only thing that would remain. 

Your nose wrinkled and you swatted his hand away, burying further into the pillows. Bucky followed you down, pressing his chest to your back and cooing sweet words into your ear. Your jaw was begging to be kissed so he did; ghosting soft lips against the curve and daring to nip when you ignored him.

“Bucky,” you warned, voice still thick with sleep.

The tone went completely ignored. All Bucky could focus on was your voice and the fact you were saying his name. There was no real irritation, only soft exasperation. Bucky could deal with that if it meant you would look at him.

“Baby,” he purred, nosing at the shell of your ear. His tongue darted out to lick your ear lobe and you shivered. “Want you to wake up.”

“Well, I don’t want to,” you said rather childishly. The soft cocoon of your blankets was a safety you never wanted to leave.

“Not even for this?” Bucky murmured, thrusting the hard line of his cock against your bare ass. Just hearing your voice made him achingly hard.

“Jesus, Bucky,” you swore, finally cracking an eye open to glance at the clock. “It’s just gone six. I don’t do sex at six.”

“Not even for me?” He teased, throwing one leg over yours and letting a hand wander over to tweak your nipple. 

It was hard to stay mad at him when he was whining like that. Especially not when he was kissing at the back of your neck and rocking ever-so-slowly against you. You liked him like this. All desperate and open and vulnerable. You liked it because in this way only, he was yours. 

You let him arrange your legs, draping one over him to open you up a little more. He let his fingers delve into your folds and.hissed at the wetness he found there. You flushed a little. It didn’t take much to work you up these days. Not with Bucky.

He slid in with no preparation. Your cunt fit snugly around his cock, squeezing as you adjusted. Your eyes fluttered shut and you settled in for a bout of lazy lovemaking. The best kind, of course.  
Bucky rocked against you with little effort, hardly pulling out. There was no begging or teasing, only a gentle give and take rhythm that had your head lolling against the pillows. 

One of your hands came to his thigh, grabbing at the thick muscle and admiring the way it was tensing from the strain of fucking you. The expression on Bucky’s face was one of great concentration. Sometimes you wondered if it was painful for him, going so slow. Bucky simply replied that he wanted to admire you, watch you slowly fall apart on his cock and his fingers and his mouth. Getting to see that was worth a throbbing cock. 

His fingers came down to swirl across your clit, reliving the aching bud and sending you spiralling into your first orgasm of the day. Bucky would have you again on the table and in the shower and before you went shopping and when you came home and before you went to bed. That was just how it was. 

The fluttering of your cunt around him sent Bucky over the edge. He clamped his teeth over your neck, leaving a pink mark in the shape of his mouth. Hot spurts of cum leaked from his cock as he lazily thrusted, riding out the last of his orgasm. He laved the mark with his tongue, humming in interest.

“Like you like this,” he murmured, “all marked up and full of cock.”

Your cunt clenched automatically and Bucky hissed, sliding out of you with a wince. He’d take you to the shower soon (take you in the shower) and take care of you.

He waited until you turned to face him before grinning widely. “Good morning, baby.”

“It really is.”


	13. grounding*

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bucky uses your body to ground himself

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  _Warning:_ 18+, smut ofc, body worship, established relationship, doting Bucky, oral (female receiving)

Decades of torture under Hydra had taught Bucky many things, but the lesson that stuck out the most was one about trust.

“Don’t trust anyone,” they’d whispered heinously, “trust the orders.”

So Bucky had. And then Steve had come along and it had gone to shit but in the best way. 

Then there was Shuri and all her tech. His brain was like a knotted ball of wool but she’d taken care to unwind each tight string, laying them carefully where they should have been. It had been a painstakingly slow process and Shuri had said it wasn’t perfect but - it was to him. 

“I’m on edge all the time,” he’d admitted to the girl, “trust - it isn’t coming easy to me. How can I trust other people when I can’t even trust my own body? My own mind?”

“You’ve answered your own question, Sergeant Barnes,” she’d said. “Learn to trust yourself and the rest will come naturally.”

Whenever his mind felt too complex, too much like a stranger’s, he relied on other things. Smells, sight, hearing, touch, taste.

Taste.  
Humming to himself, Bucky dipped his tongue into your belly button and grinned against your skin when you arched up. Your response was a breathless giggle, too strained to be humorous. Your hips wiggled and Bucky grasped them, pinning you to the bed easily. Tasting was incredible but touching was a close second. 

“Buck,” you purred, “c’mon. I want it, baby.”

The seductive purr of your voice was enough to have him hardening fully in his boxers. He bunched his hips against the mattress, seeking friction and moaning when he found it. 

Today, though, Bucky wanted to be selfish. Steve had told him that he deserved to be selfish once in a while, to take things for himself without having to think about other people. 

Steve probably hadn’t meant eating his girlfriend’s pussy until she was shaking but, hey, Bucky could make his own decisions now and he would absolutely take advantage of it. 

Pressing a kiss to your pubic bone, Bucky allowed himself to inhale deeply. Scent. He could smell you and trust that he was making you aroused. A familiar musk clouded his thoughts and made them hazy. He could hardly think. The damp spot on your panties confirmed it. Sight. 

Nosing at the damp fabric, Bucky revelled in the choked up noises you were making. He could hear them, knew that he was the one provoking them. He wanted to crawl back up the length of your body and drink every sigh from your lips but he couldn’t - not when your most intimate place was right in front of him. 

He hooked his fingers under the elastic of your panties, letting it snap back against your hips a few times until you were sighing and impatiently wiggling your hips. A quick nip to your inner thigh had you stilling, sucking in a breath so sharp that he felt the slice of it through the air.

“Good girl,” he cooed. 

That was new. Bucky loved the way you shuddered and averted your gaze, an attempt to hide how it made you feel. A fruitless one. Bucky knew everything about you and the way your body reacted. You could hide nothing from him and you’d never need to. 

Finally, Bucky eased your panties down your legs. There was a brief, awkward shuffle. Bucky had crowded himself between your legs and pulling your panties down made his arm cramp but he managed. Hell, he’d break an arm just to catch a glimpse of the sweetness between your legs. Would die just for a taste. 

He didn’t have to, though, because you were hooking your legs over his shoulders and baring yourself without even batting an eyelash.

Because you trusted him.

Bucky fell upon you like a predator upon its pray. He wasn’t ashamed of the way he loved you because it was real and made him feel more alive than he had in decades - but the sound of his mouth against your flesh was making him flush hotly. He sounded hungry. 

You were boneless in his grasp, only tilting your hips the barest amount so he could really hit that angle. Bucky lapped at your clit and gently fingered at your opening, easing two fingers inside to fuck you open a little. It wasn’t necessary; you were wet enough to ensure a nice fit but Bucky loved being inside you in any way he could. For someone who had been robbed of his autonomy for decades, Bucky sure was eager to be a part of you. 

Your thighs were quivering around his head and he grinned against your wet flesh. All he could sense was you. Bucky waited until your legs began to stiffen before redoubling his efforts. The taste of you on his tongue was almost enough to make him ignore his aching cock. 

One hand came down to push at his head, tug on his hair. You were torn between pushing him away and dragging him closer so Bucky wade the decision for you. He pinned your hands against your thighs and fastened his lips over your clit, soothing it with his tongue and applying pressure.

He didn’t part from you until your back was arching high off of the bed and your legs were clamping around his head. He could’ve stayed there quite happily if he didn’t need to breathe. He stayed until his lungs burned and all he could smell was you and all he could taste was the remnants of you on his tongue and around his lips.

Bucky grinned wolfishly, feeling like the kitten who’d gotten the cream. He might have not trusted himself yet but he trusted this - trusted you and how you felt about him and how you made him feel. You made it easy.


	14. bigger than you

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Request: I love your talented writing. It is fun to read. Makes my day. I want pre serum steve dark or normal. I bought captian america movie today and seeing him bullied makes me sad.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  **Warnings:** 18+, dark fic, murder, blood, obsessive!Steve, mentions of sexual assault

It was easy to let them push him around. It made him mad, sure, but Bucky always showed up in the end and dealt the final blows when Steve couldn’t. And he never could.

The problem was when they turned their attention to other people. The ones who couldn’t or wouldn’t stand up for themselves. That was when it became hard to watch, but Steve mostly managed to rein himself in. 

And then they turned their attention to you.

The first night it happened, they were bold. A sneaky hand reaching out to lift your skirt, a flash of your knees. You’d whirled around and looked for all the world as if you were about to smack the stupid out of the guys. Steve had almost wished you had. They were laughing in your face, swinging from their glasses. It was infuriating.

You didn’t do anything, though. Slowly, you’d turned around and smoothed a hand down the same skirt they’d lifted moments ago. You’d closed your eyes and inhaled deeply, regaining your sense of self. Then, holding your head up high, you’d stalked off to find your friends. 

Steve had watched you for the rest of the night and had spent a fitful night in bed. All he could think about was you and the way you must have desperately wanted to retaliate. Just like how he did. Both of you were powerless, but you didn’t have to be.

So, on the next night, just before he left his house, Steve slipped a slim knife into the pocket of his trousers.

The metal handle threatened to burn through the fabric. Steve kept his hands pressed firmly to his sides, sweating profusely and wondering why he’d bought it and who the hell he thought he was. Even Bucky had commented on his pale complexion and had offered to walk him back home. That was why he’d bought it. 

With that knife, he could become the protector instead of the protected.

When you left that night, the same table of guys followed. Well, one of them did. The other two stood by the back door. Steve’s lips drew into a thin line as disgust boiled in his gut; they planned on taking turns. 

Steve felt blood well on his finger as he ran it over the sharp blade. Just a taste. 

The chatter of the bar faded as Steve followed after the man, hand fisted over the knife in his pocket. He couldn’t hear anything above the blood rushing in his ears. 

He found you easily. All he had to do was follow the sound of tentative crying and ah - there you were. Cornered against the wall, trembling legs barely holding you up. You were holding your bag in front of your chest as if it would protect you.

Silly girl, he thought fondly. I can do that.

Your eyes flickered to his over the man’s shoulder, confusion swirling in their depths. The man turned around, a question on his lips.

“Hey,” he began, “the fuck are you doing-“

He didn’t say anything else. He couldn’t. 

Steve’s knife was buried deep in his neck. There was a pause before blood began bubbling past the handle and spilling from his lips. Then a thud as he fell to the floor, clutching at the stream of crimson. 

It was all very matter-of-fact. Steve supposed this could be called a crime of passion but it didn’t quite feel right. The only emotion he felt was a simmering anger and worry for you.  
Steve barely managed to catch you as you fell forward, whimpering and frantically wiping at specks of blood on your face. There was a moment where you tried to pull away, looking as if you might scream, before relaxing back into Steve’s arms. As it should be.

“It’s okay,” Steve soothed, rubbing a hand over your back. He could hardly believe he was touching you. “He was a bad guy. It’s okay.”

“He - he’s dead,” you cried out.

Steve lead you from the alley, avoiding the door where the prick’s friends would be waiting. He left the knife buried in the guy’s neck. It was just a kitchen knife, nothing special. The guy didn’t deserve anything special, anything that would have people curiosity or attention. 

You did, though.

“Come on, doll,” he cooed, wrapping a thin arm around your waist. He couldn’t resist squeezing just a little. “I’ll take you home.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> come say hi on Tumblr! **kleohoneyao3**


	15. burn baby burn*

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Request: Hey I got another request for ya dark fireman Steve Rodgers x reader. Steve meets reader on the job when her apartment burnt down they exchange numbers next thing you know their moving in together but reader doesn't know Steve meet her before her apartment burnt down 😉 I know you'll do great you always do ☺️

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  **Warnings:** 18+, dark fic, smut, fingering, vaginal penetration, love bites, obsessed!Steve, unprotected sex, slight cum-play, dirty talk, manipulation, arson

The smoke was thick in your lungs, the heat ingrained into your nose and singed into your brain forever. Never had you known such heat.

It was cold outside, but you had refused the shock blanket. Dazed, you stared down at your clasped hands. They were stained by smoke. Your face probably didn’t look much different. 

It was a miracle you’d avoided being burned, they’d told you. The fire had gone up quick enough that it should’ve taken you with it but it didn’t. That had to mean something, right?

You laughed bitterly. At the minute, all it meant was that you were homeless. All of your documents, all of your stuff, had gone up in the fire. A headache prickled at your temples at just the thought of all the paperwork you’d have to do.

The fire was still smouldering, its heat caressing you from your perch in the back of an ambulance. Embers flickered and ashes danced in the air, caught in the wind. Everything smelled bitter and burnt. It would be a week before you managed to scrub that stench from your skin.

“Ma’am, I think this belongs to you,” a voice called.

Your lips parted. There was a firefighter, holding a box. Instantly you recognised it as the one that had held all your valuables. Your passport, your driving license, that ugly old watch your parents had given you. 

“Oh,” you said shakily, accepting the box. “Oh, thank God. I - I can’t believe it. Where did you find this?”

The firefighter removed his helmet and you noticed the startling blue of his eyes. “Still in the draw. We had to use the jaws to open them but I’m glad we did. I take it that stuff is important?”

“Yeah,” you murmured, running your fingers over the tatted hair of your childhood teddy. “It is. I really can’t thank you enough. What’s your name?”

“Steve,” he answered, settling down beside you. You gave him yours and he smiled, testing it in his mouth. “I like it. Unusual.”

“Thanks,” you murmured, still taking in your stuff. You were still in a shitty situation but - this was better. Just a little. “Seriously. Thank you.”

Steve slowly shook his head. “We didn’t manage to save your home.”

“It’s okay,” you managed, even though it wasn’t really.

“Where will you go now?” He asked. 

You chewed pensively on your bottom lip. It tasted of smoke and you stopped almost straight away, fingers tightening on your teddy. Telling your parents wasn’t an option; worrying them wasn’t right. Work had been your main priority since you’d arrived in the city, so staying with a friend was out of the question because you didn’t have any. 

“A hotel, I guess,” you finally said. “Just until I can get the insurance sorted.”

There was a beat of silence. You could feel the heat of Steve’s body through his uniform. Or maybe it was his uniform - he had just been in the fire. You tucked your elbows closer to your body, making yourself small. 

Everyone was so busy. Paramedics were busying themselves with checking on neighbours and assessing everyone for smoke inhalation. Firefighters were hosing down the remains of your house, stamping out the last of the orange flames. And then there was Steve, who’s attention was solely on you. 

Your brows had risen when the police had shown up. You heard enough talk to realise that they thought the fire was set on purpose. Arson. The thought made you sick. What if it was personal? Why else would someone ruin your life?

No one came to talk to you, though. You breathed a sigh of relief when you concluded that they didn’t think you were a suspect. An officer walked by, an evidence bag in his hand. You eyed the fabric inside. A black glove. The officer saw you looking and tutted, shielding the back with his body.

Anger pooled in the pit of your stomach. Wasn’t it your right to know? Someone had set fire to your house. Surely they’d want to interview you at some point.

Steve coughed, drawing your attention back to him. He was looking at the officer, squinting at the bag. 

He shook his head before finally looking back at you.“I don’t think I can let you do that,” he said slowly, gaging you for your reaction. “I feel awful. This wasn’t a huge fire; we should’ve been able to stop it.”

“What do you mean?”

“Sometimes a few seconds can make all the difference,” he said solomly. “What I’m saying is - well, I’d like it if you’d come stay with me.”

“What? No, no, I couldn’t-“

“Honey, I see fires all the time,” he interrupted. “I know how long insurance companies can take. Unless you want to be staying in hotels for the next few months, I think it’d be best if you stayed with me.”

Part of you agreed. Still, you argued. “We’ve only just met. I - is this professional?”

“You can trust me,” he laughed, the sound easing your worries. “I’ve just rescued you, after all. I live alone with more than enough space for another person. We’d probably hardly see eachother. What’s the worst that could happen?”

There was a lot of things that could happen. You watched your fair share of True Crime shows and the news. Looking at Steve, though, you felt as ease. There was no prickling feeling or worry.  
Maybe it was the way his eyes were so blue, or maybe it was the way his face was still stained with smoke from the fire that had just ravaged your house. You trusted him. 

“Okay,” you breathed. “I - okay. When?”

Steve pulled back his sleeve to reveal a watch. “I get off in an hour. Come back to the station with us and I can drive you back to mine.”

“Okay,” you repeated. Then you laughed, raking a hand through your matted hair. “God, I feel crazy. Is that normal?”

Steve grinned. “Perfectly normal.”

🔥

Steve’s house was big, he hadn’t lied about that. You saw each other daily, though. Not that you minded. Steve had handsome and, even better, a gentleman. Whenever he cooked, he always made sure there was enough for you. And he cooked all the time.

“This is so good,” you said around a mouthful of pasta. “Careful; I won’t want to leave if you keep feeding me like this.”

“Oh? And who says that’s a bad thing?” He replied, eating forkfuls of his own pasta.

You didn’t answer. Your mind was busy mulling over his words. Would it be so awful? You liked Steve and you were due to start back at work soon. Maybe something could be arranged?

The rest of the meal was finished in silence, though it wasn’t awkward. Steve kept looking at you as if he wanted to say something but you avoided his gaze. That crazy feeling from the day of the fire still lingered. Maybe that had something to do with all of the impulsive decisions. It felt as if you were on a roller coaster but still waiting for the final drop. 

Steve was flicking through his phone when he suddenly looked up. “Hey, I know this is kinda abrupt, but there’s a work event and I have to bring a date. Would you maybe be up for that? If not then we can stay in, finish that ice cream in the freezer.”

You put your plate in the sink. “When is it?”

“Tonight,” he said sheepishly, rubbing at the back of his neck.

“Steve!” You gasped. “Tonight? At least give a girl some warning, I don’t have anything to wear -“

“I have something,” he interrupted. “An old girlfriend left it here.”

You cringed a little at the thought of wearing some faceless woman’s clothes, but it wasn’t like you had options. “Alright, alright. I’ll start getting ready now.”

Steve beamed at you and you almost forgot how to breathe. Living in close proximity to such a handsome man was a blessing and a curse on most days. You shook your head and slipped into the bathroom.

🔥

Thankfully, the dress was a perfect fit. You’d frowned at the sight of a tag before pulling it off and discarding it. At least the girlfriend had never worn it before. 

It was gorgeous. A little more out-there than what you’d usually wear but you’d manage. Everything you’d done lately had been out-there and you were beginning to wonder if that was just the new you. Or maybe it was just the way you were with Steve.

He met you at the front door. You stumbled a little on the stairs and pressed a hand to your warm cheeks. “You look good. I’m not used to wearing these things,” you say, gesturing to your heels. “My work pair are a lot smaller.”

Steve ran a finger over your bare arm and you shuddered. He smiled a little before offering you a coat. His. “You look gorgeous. Almost makes me want to keep you here for myself.”

“Steve,” you stammer, glancing between the door and him. “Are you-“

Abruptly he opened the door, letting in a fierce breeze the instantly made you recoil. “Lets go. Don’t want to be late, now, do we?”

He made idle chit-chat on the way over but you were hardly listening. You knew the look of a man who wanted, and Steve did. You’d missed (ignored) all the signs up until now. It was looking as if Steve was over being ignored.

The event was being held in the local hall. It was a celebration of the city’s authorities; the police, the paramedics and other hospital staff and, of course, the firemen. 

Your lips twisted a little as you walked in. All the men in uniform had reminded you. “Hey, Steve, when was the last time you were at work?”

Steve gave a halfhearted shrug. “Not too long. I still go in, even if it’s just to train.”

Moving in with Steve, you’d expected odd hours. Getting woken up in the middle of the night or in the early hours of the morning was something you’d prepared yourself for. But now you thought about it, Steve seemed to keep roughy the same hours as you.

You tugged a little on the dress, feeling out of place. The event was a yearly thing but you’d never bothered coming, even when you’d been invited. Now you were wishing you had, just so you were a little more familiar with the place.

“Steve!” Someone called. “Been a while, man. This your girlfriend?”

A man with a wide smile was approaching the pair of you, holding out his hands to pull Steve into a rough hug. They patted hard on each other’s backs before parting.

“So,” he repeated, eyes sliding over to you. “Girlfriend?”

You opened your mouth to correct him but Steve spoke first. “Been moved in with me for a month or so now. Right, honey?”

“R-right,” you stammered, unsure of where to look. Steve had evaded the question but he was making no attempt to correct his friend. Was that what you were? Boyfriend and girlfriend? You bristled a little. Steve hadn’t mentioned anything like that before. 

“Anyway, this is Sam,” he gestured to the man. “One of my best friends.”

“It’s great to finally meet you,” Sam grinned, bringing you in for a hug. It was warm and friendly and you couldn’t help but smile back. “He’s been talking about you for months.”

Months? A wild over exaggeration, you’d only known him for one. You tilted your head back to share a smile with Steve. Your grin faltered at the shuttered expression on Steve’s face but it vanished when he saw you looking, instead melting into an easy smile. 

“Yeah, yeah,” he waved his hand dismissively. “Get your hands off my girl, pal.”

The two bantered back and forth for a while but you didn’t feel left out. Sam made an attempt to bring you into every conversation and you found him easy to get along with. He made you laugh until your stomach cramped up but Steve didn’t share your humour. He was probably used to Sam’s antics.

The night was long but it went by fast. You made sure to buy some of the cakes by the entrance so the money could be donated to the services. Everyone was so kind and, stranger yet, seemed to know you. Through Steve, of course, but they all mentioned how fond of you he was. It warmed your heart but filled your head with questions.

Picking at a cupcake, you lazily strolled the room, dress swishing by your ankles. Steve had been talking to one of his coworkers about something mundane so you’d slipped away. Sam had been more than happy to entertain you for a while but eventually the company became stifling and you slide away once more. 

“You trying to make an escape, honey?’ Steve appeared by your side and dipped his finger into the icing before sucking it off. “Ooh, vanilla. My favourite.”

Without realising it, you’d been slowly migrating toward the exit. You smiled sheepishly. “I guess so. Sorry.”

“You’re not used to these things yet,” he took another swipe of icing, “don’t worry. I prefer it when it’s just the two of us, anyway. Though, it has been nice to show you off. I haven’t been too smug, have I?”

You couldn’t take it anymore. You had to ask. “Steve, are we - together? Like boyfriend and girlfriend?” You felt unbelievably juvenile but you had to know.

Slowly, Steve cleaned his finger of icing. You lips parted as you took in the way his tongue flickered across his finger tip. “Of course we are, honey. Didn’t you know?”

No, you hadn’t. But the matter-of-fact way he had declared it was making you think it was your mistake. 

“I didn’t,” you finally said, twisting your fingers together. “But - it’s good. I’m glad, I mean.”

Steve shared a look with you before breaking off a piece of cake and bringing it up to your mouth. “Open for me.”

You did. The entire time you couldn’t will your eyes to move from his, even as you felt your panties dampen. You chewed slowly and Steve swiped a crub from the corner of your mouth before bringing up the offending digit to his own mouth and sucking hard. You slapped his hand away. 

“Steve, not here.”

“You gonna let me take care of you, honey?” He cooed, slipping his hand into yours. You felt the stickiness of icing on his fingers and, not for the first time, wanted to taste. “Gonna let me take you into my room and do you right?”

“Yes,” you whispered, hand squeezing his. After a month of gentlemanly words and actions, this was the last thing you had expected. Simultaneously, it was everything you had ever wanted. 

🔥

After the fire, you’d thought you would never experience that kind of heat again. Now, with your dress shoved up around your waist and Steve’s hand crammed down the front of your panties, you knew it wasn’t true.

One hand was wrapped around honey-blond locks, keeping Steve from rendering your neck black and blue with those pink, swollen lips. Another was gripping the forearm of the hand shoved down your panties. You had to hold on because letting go meant giving yourself up to Steve, and you weren’t sure you were ready for an intensity that strong.

“You’re gagging for it, aren’t you?” He purred against your cheek, shifting his hips until the hard line of his cock was unavoidable. He nipped at your collarbones until your attention was on him. 

“I’m gonna make you feel better, honey, gonna take that ache away.”

There was a strangled noise coming from your throat. It was like you had no control over yourself. There was something seductive about being pinned to a door by a man like Steve, a man who had been nothing but gentlemanly up until this point. It was seeing him loose control and knowing it was because of you.

His finger was stroking lazy circles on your clit, parting you until your panties were soaked. His eyes were fixated where he was touching you, his lips parted as if he could hardly believe what he was seeing.

“Waited so long for this, honey,” his voice was ragged and it sent shocks directly down to your clit. There was a pinch of pain as he tore your panties from your hips, leaving little pink lines where he had pulled them taunt. “Can’t wait to fuck you open on my cock.”

There was a brief, bruising kiss before he was ripping his fly down and pulling out his cock. It was flushed an angry colour and you knew it must hurt. It was big, but you’d expected nothing less. Big dick energy, and all. 

“A month’s not that long,” you managed, sagging against the door as Steve swiped his cock through your folds. It caught on your clit and you keen, hips thumping against the door. 

Steve paused, a puff of laugher brushing across your cheek. “Just feels a lot longer than that, is all.”

Steve positioned himself at your entrance and, in one thrust, filled you to the brim. An inelegant squeal caught in your throat as you rose on your tiptoes, unused to feeling so full. Every part of him was flush against you and his face was buried in the crook of your neck, his tongue laving across your pulse point.

“Don’t run from my cock, honey,” he gritted his teeth and gave an experimental thrust. “Just let me fuck you nice and slow, okay?”

Then he was tilting his hips and pulling aback a little. You took your first full breath and let it all out as he pushed back in. The obscene sound of your arousal was echoing around the room but it was only making you hotter. You could feel it slicking up your thighs and the tops of his. 

“That’s it, honey,” he encouraged, fucking into you at a languid pace. “God, that’s it.“

You could feel all the tension in his frame, knew it was because he was holding back. Half of you was tempted to tell him to stop, to tell him to fuck you how he wanted. You almost did. 

A whimper escaped your mouth as he licked at your cheek, pulling back a little until he could see your face. It was almost impossible not to look away. You were joined in every way possible and he wanted more?

“Need to be inside you,” he said, though it was more to himself than you. His eyes had a far away look, but not in the usual way. It was like he was so in the moment, but not the same one as you. 

You gagged a little as he pushed two thick fingers into your mouth, rubbing the pads of them across your tongue and gathering the wetness there. You sucked the best you could and tasted the lingering sweetness of the icing. 

Steve’s hips stuttered against yours as you nipped at his fingers. A string of spit connected his fingers to your mouth when he pulled them out and he hummed thoughtfully before bringing them down to your clit and circling. A curse stammered out of him when you automatically tightened.

The snapping of his hips against yours became almost frantic and there was a deep anticipation of being sore in the morning. This was something you didn’t want to forget. As if forgetting was possible.

A faint static rang in your ears as you tilted your hips and gave way to your orgasm. Steve’s cock jerked inside you, dragging out your orgasm, and then he was following after. 

The only thing holding you up was Steve. Your legs had failed you and Steve let out a breathless laugh as you sagged against him.

“Steve,” you said, horrified. “We didn’t use a condom.”

“’S okay, honey,” he assured you, positioning you on the bed and gazing between your thighs. “You don’t need to worry.”

Your lips pursed to ask why but then he was pushing his fingers through his cum and shoving it back inside you. Words evaded you as your mind went blank.

“That’s it,” he murmured, eyes transfixed on the place between your legs. “Just need to let me take care of you.”

🔥

A month later, and you were official moving into Steve’s. You’d been out and bought more clothes and spent a good hour putting them in his wardrobe. Well, your wardrobe now. All your skincare products were lined up with his on the shelf in the bathroom. Your shoes were beside his on the doormat. Little pieces of you were evident around the house and you couldn’t have been happier.

You pushed open the other half of the wardrobe, frowning when you saw it was almost entirely empty. There were a few boxes and a quick peek told you it was mostly work related stuff.  
Steve had given you free rein to do whatever you liked. He’d been called out to a job just under an hour ago and you’d finally had the time to start organising your things. Heat pooled in your cheeks. It was hard to get anything done when Steve was around.

There was another box, shoved in the back of the wardrobe. Your brows furrowed at the sight of the lock on it. It took you a few seconds to realise it wasn’t properly locked. It was one of the locks with the numbers on, and Steve clearly hadn’t pushed the last one in correctly. 

Dust had gathered on the top and it flew up as you pushed the lid off. You sneezed, turning your face away for the few seconds it took for the dust to clear. Upon seeing the contents, you felt all the colour wash from your face. 

Matches. Boxes and boxes of matches. That alone wasn’t enough to raise suspicion. In the corner of the box was a lone glove, curled up as if it had just been torn off the owner’s fingers. You half expected to reach out and find it still hot to the touch. 

You remember its twin clearly, being taken away by that officer.

“Honey, you need to put that down.”

A scream tore from you throat as you staggered to your feet, holding your hands out in front of yourself. “Stop right there. If you come any closer, I’ll scream this house down.”

Steve tilted his head, folding his hands across his chest. “Why?”

“Why?” You repeated, dumbfound. “You - I found the box, Steve. I know what you did.”

“Do you?” He challenged. “Do you know how long I waited for you to notice me? How many times I smiled at you, only for you to look right through me?”

“What are you talking about?”

“I waited,” he hissed, stalking closer, “and waited, and waited. Can you blame me for taking it into my own hands?”

You didn’t answer. Steve continued, “And aren’t you glad that I did? We’re perfect together, honey. You never would have known that fi it wasn’t for me and what I ‘did’.”

“Steve,” you said cautiously, “it isn’t right -“

“It is,” he gritted out. “We are. Don’t lie to me, honey. There’s no need to be scared, not as long as we’re together.”

“As long as we’re together?” You said slowly. 

His expression cooled. “I burned down a building to get you to look at me. I would burn a thousand to keep you.”

The box full of matches called out to you, dragged you attention down to it. They whispered to you, promised to fulfil Steve’s words.

Steve was fire itself, and you were no match for that.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please let me know what you think!


	16. you called me beautiful*

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Request: But I was thinking, a tall reader with yandere/soft!dark Steve, Bucky, or Thor. “You think I’m…beautiful?” and “I really can’t resist this face, doll.” (feel free to change doll to any other pet name!) With some Daddy kink? And feel free to add all sorts of other things too (except maybe no breeding kink, if that’s okay). I think you’e such a great writer, I can’t wait to see what you do with this!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  **Warnings:** 18+, dark fic, yandere!Bucky, dub-con, vaginal penetration, dirty talk, unprotected sex, slight choking, cum-play, daddy-kink

Bucky blinked, trying to process the words. He’d gotten slower in the past few decades but - surely not that slow. 

You were perched on his (and Steve’s) kitchen counter, bare legs on display, toes pressed to the ground. There were chair but you’d chosen not to sit on them, claiming that they made your legs cramp up, instead choosing to torment him. That was all you did, apparently. 

Bucky broke the silence. “You think I’m…beautiful?”

You nodded sagely, hands curled around the hot cup of coffee. “Of course. I mean, you were quite the ladies man back in the -“

Bucky stiffened, shaking his head. He didn’t want to hear about him back then. He wanted to hear about himself now, with you. “Yeah, but - do you think that?”

There were clear divisions in Bucky’s life; a life that had not been wholly his. Before the war, after the fall, during cryo (and all the decades in-between). Then after he had reunited with Steve and, finally, after he met you.

Everything seemed to blur together after that, with only one clear picture. You. A constant in his life and God, how Bucky longed for some consistency. 

You looked at him, a smile pulling at the edge of your lips. He jumped back a little when you shot forward, so close that you were almost nose-to-nose. Mirth danced in your eyes and Bucky found himself returning the look.

You tilted your head to the left, then the right. “Hmm. Bucky Barnes, I think you’re beautiful.”

A final divide began to appear. It sat firmly between meeting you and what happened after Bucky decided he couldn’t (wouldn’t) live without you. 

🦾

“Where’s Steve?”

Bucky tensed so hard that his teeth ached. He didn’t turn around, focusing on pouring the wine into your glass. It was a vintage red; your favourite. Bucky had had it ever since that night a month and a half ago. 

“Bucky,” you tried again, sidling up to him and knocking his hip with yours. You met his eyes and, not for the first time, Bucky was grateful you were almost as tall as him.“Where’s Steve?”

Bucky didn’t want to talk about Steve. He wanted to talk about the future - specifically yours and his. “He’s gone, doll.”

“Yeah,” you rolled your eyes, accepting the glass Bucky offered. “Where?”

Bucky felt his nostrils flare as his temper rose. “On some mission. Who cares?”

Your jaw dropped as you jabbed him with your elbow, wine sloshing over the edge of your glass and staining your fingers. “Bucky! You do. I do. Don’t be such an ass.”

Inhaling deeply, he trailed after you as you disappeared into the living room. Excitement fluttered low in his belly and the sway of your hips was making his cock stir. It had taken him a while to find an opportunity and now, here it was.

Steve was gone for two weeks, guaranteed. That meant Bucky would have enough time to acclimatise you or make alternate arrangements if you decided to be difficult. You wouldn’t, though. You’d called him beautiful.

Bucky knew he was. He saw it in the way women and men looked at him. Both in those old pictures in the museum and today. Until you’d said it, though, he hadn’t really believed it. Hadn’t really thought it meant anything. Now it meant everything.

Taking a sip from his own glass, Bucky let his eyes stray over to your face. The wine tasted vile, but he drank it because you liked it. A few more sips and he had to put it down - his stomach was flipping and the threat of vomiting was rising. He was nervous. 

“Iwantyoutobemine,” the words came out in one rush before he could stop. Bucky gaped at himself. His blood seemed to freeze in his veins.

You arched one elegant brow, leaning over to place your glass on a coaster. “Bucky, what? You spoke too fast.”

He forced the words out before he lost confidence. “I want you to be mine. My girl.”

A silence descended on the room like a vulture. Instantly, Bucky’s lips thinned. He’d watched enough movies to know that silence was never a good sign.

“Bucky,” you were shaking your head. Fuck. _Fuck_. “We’re good friends. I don’t want to ruin that.”

“It wouldn’t ruin it,” he rushed to explain, surging forward to grab your elbows in your hands and keep you still. “It would only make it better. We’d be so fuckin’ good, doll. I know it.”

“Bucky,” you said firmly. “No. I - we can’t.”

To his surprise, there was no raging disappointment. No anger, either. Only a strange calmness. It took him a moment to realise that it was because he didn’t care. Bucky hadn’t ever intended to care about your response. He would do what he wanted either way.

There was a plan and Bucky would stick to it because consistency. It was important. His therapist had said so. 

If there was anything that the last few years had taught him, it was that words didn’t matter. Feelings did. And Bucky adored you and he knew you felt the same way. You had to, because why else would you have called him beautiful?

“C’mon,” he said, tugging you to your feet.“Where are we going?”

With a tilt of his head, “My bedroom.”

“Bucky, what?” You tried to yank your hand from his, writhing in his grasp. “I said no.”

Bucky scowled. “C’mon. It’s okay, I _love_ you.”

“Bucky I - said - no,” you hissed, punctuating each word with a slap on his arm. You were getting worked up and Bucky needed a way to calm you down. 

He pulled you close, then closer. Until your nose was pressed against his chest and he could hear your heart gunning in your chest. You were still struggling but it was half-hearted. Good. You scraped your teeth on his chest, a valiant attempt at injuring him, and he moaned. 

“You can pretend it’s just sex,” he whispered in your ear, “just this once. Pretend that you don’t love me, and it’s okay because I know you do.” Because I know I’m beautiful, he tagged on. 

Bucky felt you still and he knew he couldn’t stop now. “I know you think I’m attractive,” he murmured, bringing one of your hands up to rest against his cheek. Your eyes followed the movement until they locked with his. They were glassy with mixed emotions. “Would it be so bad to let me love you?”

Silence. Then, an uttered, “Yes.”

“But you’ll let me anyway.”

_“Yes.”_

The kiss was heated and full of emotions that Bucky couldn’t decipher. Teeth clashed together and Bucky tasted blood on his tongue, groaned at the dark taste of it. His tongue followed the traces of it until it lead him to your bottom lip.

He soothed the hurt with his tongue, lapping at your lip and tracing its outline. His arms were still around your biceps, holding you still and close. After this, he would never part from you again. 

An apartment - he’d get one with you. Somewhere far away from the Tower because he never wanted to go on another mission again. There was only one mission left for him and it was to make you love him the way he loved you. 

A whimper caught in your throat as Bucky curled a hand around your throat, squeezing just right. It would be easy.

He pulled away, tilted your head back and nibbled on your jaw line. Little pink spots appeared in his wake and he chuckled. “You’re being so good for me, doll.”

“Bucky,” your voice was throaty, choked up with emotions.

“No, doll,” he corrected, “Daddy.”

Your eyes widened so he shushed you with another bruising kiss. “I’m going to take care of you, aren’t I? Make sure you feel good? Just like any good Daddy would.”

Your lips poised to argue. With a huff, Bucky drew you down to the floor. It was hard and unforgiving on his knees but he didn’t care because the softness of your body was under his hands and he would feel it for days.

At the first peek of your nipples, Bucky’s eyes nearly rolled back in his head. The rest of your shirt was torn and discarded over his shoulder, forgotten before it had even hit the floor.

Bucky cupped your breasts, feeling the weight in his hands and caressing your peaks with the palms of his hands. A strangled noise came from your throat and then you were arching, pressing them into his hands until they threatened to spill out.

Humming lightly, Bucky leaned down and pressed his face into the juncture between your shoulder and neck. If he looked much longer, he was going to cum in his pants when he really wanted to cum in you. 

It was a tight fit, trying to squeeze his hand between your bodies and yank your shorts and panties to the side. It was a little more difficult trying to get his cock out of his boxers but he managed. 

At first contact, Bucky nearly wept. He’d spent a thousand years in the cold if it meant he could wrap himself in the warmth of your pussy. He deserved this. Bucky wasn’t sure if he believed in God but if he did, you had surely been sent by Him. Just for Bucky.

The head of his cock nudged your clit and you keened, writhing on the floor beneath him. A thought rose unbidden in Bucky’s mind; you, on your hands and knees, with Bucky’s chest pressed to your back. Squirming helplessly as Bucky split you open on his cock. 

He could have that now. He could have whatever he wanted because he had you and you thought he was beautiful.

The thump of your head on the floor had Bucky shushing you, trying to sooth you as he eased you onto his cock. He held himself over you, sliding one hand down to rest on your hips and keeping the other secure around your neck. There was no squeezing, only a gentle pressure. A reminder.

He should wait, let you get adjusted to his size. Bucky knew that, but he still couldn’t stop the shallow thrusts he was making. Your hips twitched as you tried to get away. A quick squeeze to your flesh had you stilling, a drawn out moan spilling past your lips. Bucky could already see the red marks left from his fingers and all he could think was more more more. 

Your legs fell open, thighs dusting the floor, and Bucky took that as a signal to start. He didn’t wait. In seconds, the sound of his hips slapping into your thighs was all he could hear. The sound of your pussy clinging to him, your arousal leaking out around his cock as he fucked you into the floor.

One day he’d have your legs wrapped around his head. Or, maybe, he’d start by licking his way up them and taste everything you had to offer before dipping his tongue into your pussy. Bucky was addicted to the way your legs looked draped over his waist and he’d only just had the first taste. 

“Daddy,” you let out a strangled gasp. “I can’t.”

“You will,” he insisted. “Don’t fucking run from me. Don’t ever fucking run because I promise I will follow.”

You went limp, seeming to accept your fate. Bucky pinched your thigh. “Clench for me, doll. Wanna feel all of you. Make Daddy cum and he’ll make you cum.”

Your eyelashes fluttered as you did just that. Bucky jammed his thumb onto your clit, alternating between a soft pressure and frantic circles until you were convulsing on the end of his cock, hands grabbing at his arms. 

You looked helpless, and Bucky couldn’t help but think you might deserve it. That was all he’d felt since he had met you. 

Bucky came first, and he wasn’t ashamed to admit it. How couldn’t he? All the dreams couldn’t compare to the reality of your hot cunt milking his cock. The twitching of your cunt around him had him flinching, reeling from the over-stimulation. 

There was a wet sound as he pulled out of you. Still, one finger stroked your clit. “Push for me, doll. Daddy wants to see it.”

An unsure expression filtered across your face. Bucky ignored it and rubbed your swollen clit in small circles. Then he pressed, and you clenched. Cum trickled from you instantly and Bucky suddenly wished he was the artistic type, like Steve. A camera wouldn’t do you justice.

No matter. Bucky could see you like that every day, now that you were his.


	17. open it up*

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Steve’s your secret Santa, and after watching you open your gifts, he decides he’s a little tired of waiting on the sidelines for you to realise your feelings for him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  **Warnings:** soft dark fic, soft!dark!Steve, smut, vaginal penetration, object insertion (but not extreme), dirty talk, initial dub-con, pushy!Steve, Steve loves reader but in a twisted way, unsure of feelings, praise kink

Two weeks into December, and you knew one thing for sure. Secret Santa was a pain in the ass.

Was there anything worse that shopping for people who you didn’t know on a non-professional level. And, of course, it was always someone you hardly knew. Never Marie, never Sam, never Steve. No, that would be too easy.

Idly, you tapped away at your computer. You were about five minutes from giving in and ordering a self-care package from Etsy. Two, because treat yo’ self. Men liked self-care too, right? 

You glanced over your monitor, eyeing David from across the hall. David, who you knew nothing about other than he sometimes picked his nose and ate it. David, who was also the person you were meant to be buying a present for.

“Fifteen dollar minimum, too,” you grouched to yourself, scowling at the back of David’s head. “I don’t even have fifteen dollars.”

An exaggeration, but still. A present for fifteen dollars for someone you didn’t know? That was rough.

“What did poor David do to you?”

You jumped slightly, your chair squeaking as you swivelled it around. “Put his name in the Secret Santa, that bastard. Since when did chocolates become an unacceptable gift?”

Steve grinned, leaning over into your stall. “Wow, he’s the worst. Any gift ideas?”

Steve looked good, in a suit and tie. The tie was festive, the kind that someone’s dad would wear, but he made it look good because he was Steve. Your mood soured further. Since when did festive ties look good on anyone?

“Obviously not, or I wouldn’t be plotting his murder,” you shrugged, tapping the pen on the bottom of your lip. Steve’s eyes latched onto the slight ink stain there. “Who did you get?”

“That’s top secret information,” he solemnly said, shaking his head slightly. 

“What?” You protested. Several people looked over so you lowered your voice. “How is that fair - I told you mine!”

“Not my fault your lips are particularly loose,” he called, already beginning to back away down the corridor. “I’ll see you tomorrow- for drinks and Secret Santa!”

A scowl deepened the crease between your brows. Right - the gift giving was tomorrow. That, and an hour long staff meal. With a huff, you hopped onto Amazon. Hopefully David was a fan of face masks.

🎄

The staff meal was horrible. It didn’t really put a dent in your mood; you hadn’t expected anything else. 

Sam got horribly drunk and fled to the dance floor within the first fifteen minutes. Your boss was apparently in the heartfelt mood - but still, thirty minutes for a speech was excessive, right? 

“Whaddya say we get outta here,” Steve slurred in your ear.

You looked up at him, saw the signs of early intoxication and sighed. Steve got grouchy and teary when he was drunk. “But I haven’t had my present yet.”

Steve pulled his arm from behind his back, revealing an awfully wrapped package. “You can open it at your place. C’mon, I wanna go to yours. Please, baby.”

You arched an eyebrow, eyeing the way Steve was swaying on his feet. Steve got drunk fast but it usually left his system even faster. With any luck, he’d be always back to normal by the time you got home.

Steve draped himself over you, forcing you to wrap an arm round his upper back to keep him steady. He was humming something under his breath, hand clenching the wrapping paper for your gift so hard it was on the verge of tearing.

You not-so-gently deposited him in the passenger seat, leaning over to buckle him up before pointing at the gift. “You gonna let me open that or are you just gonna do it for me?”

“Hmm?” He blinked, eyes bleary. “Oh. I don’t know.”

“You don’t know? I thought it was for me?”

“It is,” he said slowly, “but I got you another one at my house. You can have that one instead.”

“Why?”

Steve huffed, like all your questions were annoying him. “I bought this one today. I - I don’t think you’ll like it.”

Then he tilted his head back, closed his eyes and resumed singing. You watched him for a moment more, feeling thoroughly dismissed, before slamming the door, getting in the driver’s side and heading home.

There wasn’t any snow, but your neighbourhood was pretty good with Christmas decorations. Steve watched as you passed them, occasionally looking at you in the mirror.

“What?” You finally said, hands tightening on the wheel. He still looked kinda drunk; you half expected him to burst out into tears.

“What did you get David in the end?” He asked.

“Oh, uh, some face masks,” you cringed. “I hope he doesn’t find out they’re from me. They were on sale, too. Why?”

“Just wondered,” he shrugged. “You get me a present?”

“Duh,” you grinned. “Of course I did.”

“Was it on sale?”

“No,” you snapped, though amusement showed on your face. “Would it matter if it was?”

Steve looked thoughtful. “I guess not. I’d take any present from you, yanno?”

Yeah, he was totally still drunk. Sappy Steve made you laugh so you didn’t comment on it, instead hiding your smile and focussing back on the road ahead. 

🎄

Back at your place, Steve seemed to have sobered up a little bit. He still had your present in his hands, kept twisting it even after he was sat down. He was nervous and it was making you nervous. 

Sometimes…sometimes you thought he might have a crush on you. Or something. And then you’d look and be like - oh, wait, it’s Steve. That’s not allowed. And you’d shoo all thoughts of it out of your head until the next time he was looking all soft and doe eyed. 

You were more than aware of your own relationship streak. Opening up to people was not your forte, and you’d stopped trying. Maybe after a few years (and some therapy) you could try again. With the right person, and all that.

“So,” you casually said, “what did you get me?”

Steve’s eyes were glued to the wine swirling in your glass. He swallowed, looking suddenly chastised and looked away. “Uh, it’s at my place -“

“No,” you interrupted, “what’s in there?”

Steve looked down, taking in the rumpled wrapping paper and tiny tears. “Nothing, really. It was just a stupid idea and totally inappropriate-“

As soon as the word ‘inappropriate’ grazed your ears, you shot forward and snatched the package out of Steve’s hands. He swore and jumped up, diving after you as you swerved around the soft and out of his reach.

“Don’t open it!” He bellowed. _“Don’t!”_

You paid him no mind, running through your apartment, leaving strips of wrapping paper in your wake. Steve was hot on your heels but you caught him off guard ever time you whizzed round a tight corner, laughing the entire time.

And then you weren’t laughing, because you were holding a silky set of red lingerie in your hands.

You blinked. “Oh.”

“Oh, God,” Steve moaned, raking both hands through his hair. He looked mortified. “I don’t know what I was thinking.”

The set was soft for lace, almost as if you were holding water. It could hardly be called lingerie, really. You could make out a few scraps of fabric but nothing substantial. It wasn’t a joke present -a set like this was too expensive to be a joke.

“You do,” you insisted, hand clenching around the fabric. “You do know what you were thinking. Tell me.”

Steve looked pale, scared almost. That didn’t stop you, though. All you could think about was the fact your best friend had given you some really expensive lingerie and maybe you hadn’t imagined all those looks and secretive touches or that time you’d nearly kissed five years ago - you had to hear it.

Steve swallowed. “I thought it would look good - no, I thought you’d look beautiful in it.”

Instantly, your face crumpled. “Steve -“

“No, wait,” he said, “you wanted to hear this. Well, here it is. I’ve been in love with you for some time now, but it didn’t take a genius to realise that you’re to stubborn to admit your own feelings. 

“So I waited, and waited and waited and I’m just sick of it, you know? I - we deserve good things. We’re each others good things, isn’t it obvious? So I saw some pretty lingerie, and I thought it would look gorgeous on you. I bought it. You opened it.”

“And now what?” You whispered.

Steve’s gazed darkened. “And now you’re gonna go put it on for me so I can rip it off of you.”

Your heart was thudding in your chest, shaking your entire being. You’d never expected that from Steve. Even though you’d wanted it, still wanted it, it wasn’t that easy. 

Your panties were wet, sticking to your folds like a second kin. A slight shift had Steve inhaling, almost as if he could smell you. Mortified, you stepped back. “Steve, I -“

He held up a finger. There was no trace of that sappy drunk guy, now. “Unless you’re going to tell me you love me, I don’t want to hear it. Go and put it on, baby. I promise you’ll like the way I touch you.”

You inhaled sharply, feeling everything come into focus whilst simultaneously vanishing. “We can’t, Steve.”

He scowled. “Why not? Because you’re afraid that something good will come of it? Because you’re afraid that you’ve missed what was in front of you this entire time? I know you like to win, baby, but come on. For once, accept defeat. Let me take you to bed.”

There was a moment where no one moved, and then everyone was moving all at once. Steve shot forward, grabbing your upper arm and pulling you to him in one move. “We’ll forget the lingerie this time.”

You didn’t put up a real fight. The sex wasn’t what scared you; it was the intimacy that followed after. And it would, because that was the type of person Steve was. He knew you too well to leave you intact after something like this.

There was one brief, chaste, even, kiss. And then Steve was slipping his tongue between your lips and fucking your mouth with it, leaving no part of you untasted. It felt too good to stop, so you didn’t. 

He didn’t pull away until your knees were threatening to give out and you were swaying on your feet. “The bedroom, baby. I wanna fuck you for the first time on a bed, okay?”

The journey to the bedroom was blurred, one that you codlin’t remember no matter how hard you thought about it because Steve was pulling your clothes off and shoving his hands into your panties before you even hit the mattress.

He pressed another bruising kiss to your mouth before pulling back to yank off his own shirt. Your eyes greedily took in the expanse of skin he revealed, your thighs clamping together as your mind ran a hundred miles per hour.

You should’ve made a decision. Maybe told him to take you on.a date or something like that because now he was making all the decisions for you and, well, it wasn’t a turn off. It made sense, in a twisted way. You couldn’t make your own decisions so Steve’d make them for you.

Steve placed one hand on your mound, drawing your attention back to him. His chest was heaving, hungry gaze fixated on the opening between your legs. He pushed your thighs up and out, exposing you fully. 

“Your pussy needs to be filled, hmm?” Steve cooed, watching as your cunt pulsed in response to his words. “I wanna see that. Wanna see you opening up for me so fuckin’ bad it hurts.”

Absently, he reached down to palm his cock. Dipped his hand beneath the waistband of his jeans and adjusted himself, positioning the head of his cock just past the band. Your mouth watered, even as your mind told you to come to your senses. 

The head was flushed a painful looking red, beads of precum dampening it. You sucked in a breath, squirming sightly. As if he thought you were going to get up, Steve pinched your upper thigh.

“Such a greedy pussy,” he said slowly. He dipped a finger inside, eyes shooting up to yours when you gasped. “It would take anything, wouldn’t it?”

“I - yes,” you agreed, tilting your hips down in an attempt to fuck yourself onto his finger. He held it just out of reach, teasing you. “Anything.”

Steve reached over you suddenly, his musk clouding your senses as his chest pressed to yours. Instantly you arched your back, desperate for any kind of relief, but then he was pulling back. To your embarrassment, you let out a throaty whine.

“Now you know what it feels like,” he said, “desperation, I mean. But I’ll show you a little more, just so I know you really understand.”

Your eyes flickered to his hands. They were curled around one of your ornaments - a candy cane. The lighting shone on the glass, the red and white swirling down it. It was one of your favourite ornaments.

Then it clicked. Your pussy clenched even as you mind recoiled. “Steve? You - that can’t go inside me.”

“And why not?” He asked softly. “You have a greedy pussy, don’t you.”

“I -“

_“Don’t you.”_

Then he was rubbing the candy cane in your slick, prepping it for sliding inside of you. A cry lodged itself in your throat as you shook, toes curling. 

It was slim, hardly filling at all, and even as Steve pushed it all the way in, you hardly felt it. He kept his fingers curled around the curved top, cooing as he tugged it slightly. 

It was the way he was looking at you. As if he’d known what you were like the whole time, as if he’d imagine it before. Control had been slipping away but now you were pushing it away. Steve could have it all if it meant he’d fuck you. 

Still, your pussy clenched around the cane, made Steve tug a little harder. He laughed softly, leaned down to press a kiss against your hipbone. He was pleased with you, and it made your thighs quiver.

“Just wanted to open you up a little bit,” he hummed. “You’ll let me finger you at work, right? God, how am I supposed to keep my hands off of you?”

You felt sexy, almost, being spread open for Steve. The way he was looking at you, the way he was praising you, was making you feel adored, rather than used. All thoughts of protest were flying quickly out the window, and you could hardly remember why you’d argued in the first place. 

Steve pulled the cane from you, grinning at the wet sound it made as it slid out. Your lips parted as he brought it to his lips, licking a long stripe up it and groaning at the taste of you.

“Tastes so good; should’ve eaten you out. I’ll do it tomorrow morning,” he told you, rather than asked. 

There was a clinking sound as Steve let the candy cane drop to the floor. Your lungs constricted as he lifted his hips, shimmying awkwardly out of his jeans. They fell into a heap on the floor and his boxers were quick to follow.

Instantly, your eyes latched onto his cock. “Can I -“

“No, baby,” he said gently, pressing one hand on your sternum to force you back. “Don’t want you thinking too much. I wanna make you feel crazy.”

You opened your mouth to tell him that he already was, but then he was pushing your thighs up to your chest and bottoming out inside you. Your jaw dropped, releasing a drawn-out moan pulled from your depths. 

“That’s it,” he purred, shifting slightly. “See, you never should’ve told me no. ‘Cus you liked to be fucked, baby, ’n I can give it to you good.”

He started with a gentle rocking, a slight tilt of his pelvis that had you whimpering and squirming in his hold. There would be bruises from his fingers tomorrow. 

“You just can’t stay still,” he said, tone coloured with affection. “Don’t run from this cock, baby. Need you to take it like a good girl.”

Steve’s hips stuttered as you clenched around him. He swore, leaning down a little closer before beginning to fuck you into the mattress. There was a squelching wet sound that, any other time, might’ve made you embarrassed. Instead it fuelled your arousal, made you tilt your hips so that the sparse hair around his cock ghosted against your clit.

“Silly girl, trying to get herself off,” he murmured. “Only I can do that, okay?”

Steve jammed his thumb against your clit. There was a pinch of pain and then he began to rub soft circles into the sensitive flesh. He didn’t let up until you were shaking, hips shuddering in an attempt to throw him off. It was too much and everything you’d hoped for.

“Can feel you gettin’ tighter,” he growled, voice throaty. “You gonna cum for me, baby? ‘Cus I’m gonna fill you up all pretty and nice.”

True to his promise, Steve’s pace increased as he chased his orgasm. He held out until your body seized, everything clenching as your orgasm tore through your body. He kept you still, pumping in and out several more times before finally spilling.

Your chest was heaving, the exertion leaving a light sheen of sweat on your skin. Steve was still inside but you went to push up, move away, anything to put distance between the two of you.

Steve hushed you, covering your body with his own until you were forced to lay still. He pressed kisses into your hairline and forehead, wiping away any tears that snuck past. 

“That’s it,” he encouraged. “Let me in. Open up, baby.”

You almost laughed. Let him in? Steve had forced his way in, and now there would be no getting rid of him. How that made you feel, you couldn’t be sure. Not yet.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please let me know what you think!


	18. white noise*

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The one where you're loved by two men and both are tired of chasing after you.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  **Warnings:** 18+, threesome, subby!Bucky, reader, dom!Steve, age gap, pining, yearning, jealous!Bucky, possessive behaviour, brattish!reader, insecure!reader, degradation, slight praise kink, oral (female receiving), vaginal penetration, dirty talk, masturbation, pushy!Steve

It was your twenty-third birthday, and Bucky felt crazed.

He’d spent most of the night pressed up behind you, glaring at anyone with enough balls to approach you and trying to ignore the way you pushed back on him, blinking prettily over your shoulder with long lashes. The scent of your perfume and whatever alcohol you’d been drinking on your breath was enough to make his hands shake, so he put them to better use and grabbed your hips.

As expected, you shot him that look. The warning look. The one that you always gave him when he dared to reach out and take what you were offering. It was like you wanted to see how far you could push him before he just took. Bucky would never, and he thought you knew that.

It was a punishment, of sorts. For both of you, because he saw the way you looked at him. The way you pressed your thighs together whenever he got too close (and he always was). The way your bottom lip was always hooked between your teeth. 

You were doing it now. Back pressed against the line of his body, swaying slightly to the music. Bucky still had his hands on your hips. 

You hiccuped and pulled away. “I’m going to get another drink.”

“Okay,” he said, tongue thick in his mouth. “I’ll be here.” 

He watched as you navigated the dance floor, slipping through clusters of people before disappearing into the toilet. Another drink, his ass. Bucky had never seen you drunk before and, whilst you were tipsy, you weren’t drunk now. 

You craved control too much to do that. 

Bucky wanted to be the one to inspire you to lose it. Had waited for the past ten years for that moment; the moment when you realised he was worth it and finally gave in. It never happened, though. 

Sighing deeply, Bucky sidled up to the bar. Ordered another drink and downed several in quick succession because fuck it. 

Tracing the rim of the shot glass, Bucky thought hard. It was becoming obvious that it would never happen, not how he had planned out anyway. You were too much, and he was not enough. 

A slight smile pulled at his lips. If you ever heard him say something like that, you’d go ape shit. 

It had never been explicitly said, but Bucky knew that you knew. There were some things that were just too obvious to ignore, and Bucky was one of them. He made sure of it, because whenever your attention strayed else where, Bucky felt a part of himself go with it.

There had been boys before. Not many, because they never seemed to do it for you. Bucky had spent hours listening to you rant about them, about the satisfaction they failed to bring.

It pissed him off because he could do it. Fuck, Bucky would spent hours on his knees making you cum if only you’d let him -

“You waiting on your girl?”

Bucky laughed humourlessly, downing the rest of his shot. “She’s not my girl.”

The handsome stranger settled down next to him, ordered a drink of his own. Bucky bit his lip, the urge to tell him to fuck off fading as he got a good look at him. 

Blue eyes, blonde hair and a face so handsome it could be on the cover of a magazine. Bucky felt something stir in his stomach. The guy held eye contact whilst sipping from his drink, licked his lips as he put it back down on the coaster.

“But you want her to be, right?”

Bucky swallowed. “Yeah.”

The man smiled, though Bucky detected no trace of mocking. “I know how you feel. I work with her, you know? Been wanting her for a while now.”

Instantly Bucky stood straight. His heart was pounding in his chest so hard he thought it might fall out. It didn’t matter though, because all he cared about was finding you and getting the hell out of there before the handsome stranger could lay eyes on you again.

“Woah,” he held his hands up. “Calm down. I - I just want to talk, okay?”

Bucky said nothing, still standing rigid. There were a million ways the night could’ve gone but Bucky hadn’t seen this coming. He knew you were desirable (was very aware of it, thank you very much) but hearing it from the mouth of a stranger had a deep pit settling in his stomach.

“Alright. I should’ve expected that,” the man sighed, swishing the drink around in his glass. “Do you know she talks about you a lot? Can’t have a conversation with her without you being brought up.”

“Good,” he said bluntly, knuckles turning white on the counter.

“I think she’s in love with you,” he said casually, rolling his eyes at the look on Bucky’s face. “C’mon. Don’t act surprised. It’s obvious.”

“Not to me it isn’t,” Bucky shook his head, lips turning downward. It was all playing out in his mind; years and years of being brushed off. “Why do you care anyway?”

“Because I think she’s also interested in me.”

Hot white rage bubbled in Bucky’s gut. He took a swing without thinking about it, didn’t resist as the stranger caught his fist and pulled him close without much effort. His chest was heaving and it took him a moment to realise it wasn’t just his.

Bucky tried to pull away but arms were banded tight around him. They looked like lovers to everyone else. It was almost funny.

“Listen, James,” he said quietly. “I think the only thing in the way of what we want is each other. I saw her dancing with you; she wanted you, James. Came so close to turning around, I saw it.”

“Why are you telling me this?” Bucky whispered. Embarrassingly, his eyes were tearing up. He was being laid bare by a man he didn’t even know.

“I know her,” the man said. “Not as well as you, but I do. And - I think that it would be much easier to get her to give in with both of us. She’s so close and she only needs the final push.”

“And we’d be that final push?” Bucky asked, feeling oddly naive. It was bizarre, but he was hanging onto the man’s every word. He’d never felt closer to you before.

“Yes,” the man insisted. “You see, James? She needs us. Both of us.”

It made sense. You were fighting yourself, and it was wearing you down. Bucky was young, inexperienced, but this man? He was a person that Bucky wanted on his side, for sure.

“Okay,” he breathed, nodding frantically. “Okay.”  
The stranger pulled away, blue eyes flashing. “Good boy, James. Tell her I said hello, okay?”

They traded numbers and names. Bucky watched as the man, Steve, disappeared into the bulk of the crowd and tried to pretend that his cock wasn’t painfully hard because of him.

🌹

You knocked on Bucky’s apartment door, standing back to rock on your feet. Nerves twisted your insides, threatening to worm their way up and constrict around your heart. 

Bucky had been distant for weeks. Ever since that night out on your birthday, when you’d practically thrown yourself at him on the dance floor. Even a quick five minutes in the toilets hadn’t taken away the edge, and Bucky had looked at you with something unfamiliar in his eyes for the entire night.

You were scared that he - he was done with you. A friendship breakup of sorts. 

Maybe it was time. You sniffled pitifully, trying not to cry. It was your fault. You gave off mixed signals. You weren’t stupid. Just in love with your best-friend and too scared to cross the boundaries. 

The door opened and Bucky was there, eyes sparkling. “Sorry, I didn’t hear you. Come in!”

You barely heard him, eyes fixated on a dark spot on his collarbone. “Is. . .that a hickey?” 

“Huh?” Bucky blinked, hand fluttering up to the darker patch of skin. “Oh. Are you hungry?”

You followed him in, trying not to think too hard about how he had evaded your question and how there was a scent that wasn’t his lingering on his clothes. Not just his clothes, actually. You could smell it everywhere.

You smiled widely and hoped that the sound of your heart breaking wasn’t audible. “Starved.”

“I told you she’d be hungry, Buck.”

You froze in the doorway to the kitchen, bag dangling from your fingertips. Steve was at the stove, carefully mixing sauce with a spoon. Steve. Steve from work. Steve who’d definitely didn’t know Bucky.

Steve glanced up, grinned at you. “You worked hard today, honey. I’ve made enough food here for an army.”

Then it clicked. Bucky’s sudden distance, that familiar smell on his clothes, the hickey on his goddamn neck. 

A laugh bubbled in your throat. How stupid. Not only was Bucky not interested in you - he was gay. With Steve, who was also not interested in you.

“Sit down,” Bucky insisted, ushering you into a chair at the table. “It’s ready, isn’t it, Steve?”

“Sure is, sweetheart,” Steve turned, sharing a look with Bucky. “Mind getting the cutlery out for me?”

“Sure.”

“Good boy,” Steve said, then he turned back to the food as if it was nothing.

It wasn’t nothing. Your heart was puttering away in your chest, threatening to give out any minute. For a few hours, you were going to have to watch the two people you wanted most in the world eye fuck each other over dinner.  


Your pussy clenched and you squeezed your thighs together, teeth clenching. “So, how long have you two been together?”

“Oh,” Bucky said, shrugging. Your eyes widened as he gave the date of your birthday. “We bonded right away.”

“Hmm,” Steve agreed, plating up the food. “That’s what happens when you have so much in common.”

You wanted ask what, what did they have in common, but then Steve was pushing a steaming plate in front of you. 

He smiled. “Eat up, honey.”

You dug in, keeping your eyes fixed on your plate. Your mind was suspiciously blank, and you settled into the motions of forking food into your mouth. It was tasteless but you continued, eating until your plate was clear.

When you looked up, Steve and Bucky were both looking at you. Neither were even half way through their own plates and you blushed. “I - I have work. At home. I should - “

“No,” Steve said carefully. “You don’t.”

Instantly, your heart dropped to your feet. Steve carried on eating as if he hadn’t just shot you down. Bucky was looking at Steve, something like admiration in his eyes.

“That would’ve worked on me,” he said.

“I know,” Steve responded, reaching over to squeeze one of Bucky’s hands. “That’s why I’m here.”

In a flash of irritation, you pushed your plate away. It rattled noisily and their attention snapped back to you. Something like satisfaction flared, but you pushed it away. That wasn’t what was important. 

“What’s going on?” You demanded. 

“Like Bucky said, we met a few weeks ago,” Steve shrugged. “Found out that we had a lot in common - namely, you.”  


“Me?” You repeated.

“You,” Steve agreed, putting his knife and fork down, “and your bratty behaviour.”

Bucky’s eyes were snapping between you and Steve. Your mouth was working but no words were coming out. A steady stream of curse words were on repeat in your mind as it finally clicked. 

Steve leaned over, affectionately patting your cheek. “That’s it, honey. Close your mouth; we can’t trust what comes out of it, anyway.”

You stood up, chair legs scraping across the floor. “I’m going home.” You went for your bag, the leather strap warm and familiar in your hands. It was a small relief, one that you were grateful for. Never had you felt so of kilter, so challenged.

You turned to leave, heading back through the sitting room. They followed and your feet sped up until you were almost running.

“Sit down. Now."

You froze. Steve’s body was warm behind you and you jumped as his hands settled on your elbows. One slowly stroked it’s way down until it was touching yours and he unwound the leather strap from your fingers, discarding the bag somewhere behind you.

“No more running, honey,” he murmured, gathering your hair at the nape of your neck and kissing you there. You whimpered and his chest rumbled in approval. “You’ve done enough of that. Poor Bucky’s getting desperate.”

Steve leaned forward until you could feel his breath puffing on the side of your face. “When I fuck him, he says your name.”

Whirling around, you held your hands up in front of you. Steve’s expression softened and Bucky was hovering in the background, hands fluttering around his face. It did little to calm you. “I can’t. I just can’t.”

Tentatively, Steve reached forward and slowly lowered your hands. “You can, honey. You don’t need to struggle anymore, okay? We’re both here for you, and we’re not going anywhere.”

Steve saw the struggle still warring on your face and pulled you close, pressed his forehead to yours as if he was trying to will himself into your thoughts. “Give it to me, baby. The control, the reins, hand them over. You trust me? Trust Bucky?”

“Steve,” Bucky hissed. “Leave it. I don’t think it’s going to happen.”

His words stung, a dose of reality that was impossible to avoid. Bucky, who you’d known for almost your entire life. Steve who had become an essential part of it after only a few months. It was an obvious answer, but it still wasn’t right. You didn’t trust yourself to let go.

“Let me, honey,” Steve murmured, gathering you close. “Let us do the thinking for you.”

You squeezed your eyes shut, only opening them when Steve nipped at your collarbones. “Yes.”

He looked up, his expression identical to the one on Bucky’s face. “What?”

“Yes,” you repeated, word breaking on a sob as Steve surged up a pressed kisses all around your face. “A-aren’t you going to kiss me?”

Steve groaned from deep in his chest. “I would love to, but I think there’s someone who’s been waiting a lot longer than me,” he turned, beckoning Bucky over. “C’mon, Buck. Don’t you wanna kiss our pretty girl?”

Bucky remained frozen for a moment. You blushed, pressing yourself harder into Steve as if he would protect you from the humiliation. Maybe Steve had it wrong. Maybe Bucky didn’t really - 

Bucky surged forward, gathering your face in his hands and pulling you close enough so that your nose dusted his. “Finally,” he breathed, and then he was kissing you hard enough to knock the wind out of you.

“Take it easy, Buck,” Steve was chuckling. “Don’t wanna scare her off, okay?”

Seeming to agree, Bucky pulled away, but not before he shared one last chaste kiss with you. He hummed, nuzzling into your neck, stubble scratching your neck and urging you to tilt it back and allow him more access.

Steve was laughing, pulling Bucky away from you. “C’mon. You’ve waited this long, I think you can wait until we take her to the bedroom.”

“I can’t,” Bucky moaned, pupils blown and mouth red. “I need her. I need to -“

You gasped as Steve popped him in the cheek. It sounded harder than it was and it sent a pulse of arousal down to your pussy, slicking up your lips and dampening your panties. 

Steve pinched Bucky’s chin between his thumb and his forefinger, turning him. “You will wait. Fuck, Bucky, you’re so horny I almost don’t know what to do with you.”

Steve turned his attention back to you. “C’mon, honey. I’ll treat you right.”

Bucky moaned pitifully, trailing along after you as Steve lead you to the bedroom. You gave him a quick kiss, blushing when Steve told you not to give him too much sympathy. 

The bed was a rumpled mess, sheets and pillows strewn everywhere. Steve nodded towards it. “See? I fucked him before you came over and he still can’t get enough.”

“Please,” Bucky spoke up, moulding himself to your back and slotting the hard line of his dick between your ass cheeks. “I wanna touch, so bad.”

Steve perched on the edge of the bed in front of you, peering at Bucky over your shoulder. “Take her shirt off. But don’t touch.”

You hissed as Bucky’s cold hands settled on your hips, hurriedly pulling your shirt from your skirt until he could slip his hands beneath it. They were freezing, raising little goosebumps in their path as he explored your ribcage.

You shivered as he pulled it off, revealing your plain t-short bra to the room. There was a brief moment where you wished you’d worn something more fancy, but then Steve was telling Bucky to take off your bra and the cool air was hitting your breasts.

“Oh, honey,” Steve cooed, leaning forward until warm breath dusted your peaked nipples. “These look painful. You want Bucky to suck on ‘em?”  
Bucky rutted into you from behind, whimpering, and Steve reached between your legs to pinch him on the thigh. Bucky shuddered, sagging slightly against you. You could tell he was trying hard to be still.

“Yes,” you said.

“Words,” Steve said. “You’re a clever girl. Use them.”

“I want him to,” you paused, licking your lips. Bucky was whimpering again, sweet little noises that were making the crotch of your panties stick to your pussy. “I want him to - suck on my nipples.”

Steve didn’t say anything when he reached forward to pull you into his lap, settling your legs over his and spreading them. He shuffled the pair of you up the bed until his back was against the headboard. Your skirt was edging it’s way up your thighs and just when you wondered if Bucky could see your panties, he let out this animalistic moan that told you he could.

Steve pinched your nipple hard enough to make your back arch. Bucky’s eye lids lowered as he crawled up the bed, settling himself between your’s and Steve’s thighs. 

It didn’t take long for his mouth to find your nipple, suckling in short pulses that had you jerking in Steve’s hold. Steve brushed your hair from your face, told you that you were being a good girl and to let Bucky show you. 

Bucky laved your nipple with his tongue, eyes glassy and face flushed. He switched over just as you were beginning to get too sensitive, giving your other breast the same treatment until you were boneless. 

“Off, Bucky,” Steve suddenly said, reaching forward to tap his cheek. “Too much.”  


You kissed Steve’s cheek, grateful for his interference. It wasn’t that you were afraid to tell Bucky to stop, you realised. You just trusted that Steve would do it.

“Your clothes,” Steve said to Bucky, “take ‘em off. Honey, I’m sorry he’s so desperate. He needs to calm down, doesn’t he? ‘Else he’ll cum before he can even fuck you.”

Steve slipped his fingers beneath your skirt, pushed it down your thighs in one smooth movement. He pressed a kiss to the side of your face, moving around until he finally met your lips. Your thighs shook as his fingers danced over the obvious wet patch on your panties.

“Steve,” Bucky whined. “You said I could touch her first.”

“I did, didn’t I?” Steve agreed, fingers ghosting against your clit through the soaked fabric. “You want that, honey?”  


Finally, you turned your attention back to Bucky. A breath caught in your throat at the sight of him standing proud, cock pointing skyward and flushed an angry red.

“Bucky,” Steve tutted, beckoning him forward. “You’re gonna scare her like that. You’re just too eager, huh?”  


“Yes,” Bucky nodded frantically, crawling back on the bed until he was level with the two of you, sat just next to your thighs. “’S why I need to fuck her, need to make her feel so good.”

“Young boys,” Steve said. You could almost hear him rolling his eyes. “Only care about themselves. Come here, Buck.”

Confusion flitted across Bucky’s face, his eyes darting between your legs and to the wet patch there, then back to Steve’s outstretched hand. He looked almost pained. “But -“

“Bucky,” Steve’s voice was stern, leaving no room for arguments. “You’ll hurt her. You think you’ll last long like this, Buck? You’ll come too soon, baby. Let me take the edge off.”

Your lips parted as Steve’s hand fisted around Bucky’s cock, the red tip peeking out of the top. Bucky shuddered, chest heaving as he thrusted forward, fucking Steve’s fist. He looked beautiful, head thrown back and chest a flattering pink as he chased his orgasm.

“See, honey,” Steve cooed into your ear, nipping at your earlobe. “He wants you so bad. He’ll be no good, though, if he comes too early. He’s been so good; you want him to come on you?”

“Please,” Bucky interrupted, hips stuttering. “Please, baby, I wanna come on you so bad. Make you look all pretty, all fucked out.”

“He talks about it all the time,” Steve commented. “Told me he wants to eat his cum from your pussy one day. Said that he wants to suck my cock after I’ve fucked you and taste us both at the same time. Can he do that, honey?”

You’d never wanted so much in your entire life.

Bucky shouted as he came, cum spurting from his cock and coating your chest. Steve fucked him through it, fisting his cock to wring the last bits from him until Bucky was begging for him to stop. Steve did, pulling him down for a sweaty kiss and telling him how well he did.

“I need to cum,” you hissed, grabbing Steve’s hand and lifting your hips. “Bucky. Steve. Please.”  


“Poor baby,” Steve said sympathetically, squeezing your thigh. “You want Bucky to make you cum?”

Bucky was more than happy to settle back between your legs. You jolted as he pressed his face to your panties, mouthing at the wet spot. His eyes were dark, only a sliver of blue visible around his pupil. 

“You can take them off,” Steve said, tone coloured with affection.

Bucky did, moaning at the sight of your pussy. “Smells so fucking good. Wanna taste it.” He breathed, hot air puffing across your folds.

“Your fingers, Buck,” Steve reminded him. “Gotta make sure to open her up. Lay back for me.”

Bucky’s eyes flitted up to Steve’s, a flash of irritation making your lips part. Steve only laughed, grasping at your hips to push you up own your knees. Immediately you knew what he was planning. Five minutes ago you might’ve protested, but that was before you saw Bucky Barnes cum.

Bucky settled on his back, hands fluttering by his sides in a gesture you’d thought was nerves but now realised was arousal. Steve kept his steady grip on your hips, positioning you over Bucky’s face to his liking.

He held you there for what seemed like an age, waiting until you were squirming and begging all pretty. He grinned, all teeth and no humour. “Eat, Buck.”

Bucky was on you in seconds, tongue sweeping over your folds as if he couldn’t bear to leave an inch untasted. Steve held almost all your weight, fixing himself to your back so he could see what you saw.

“He looks so pretty with his face buried in your pussy, huh?” Steve rubbed soft circles with his thumb into your hips. “He’s been wanting this for so long. It’s only fair he gets the first taste.”

You jumped as Bucky eased a finger inside, curving it against that spongy spot that had you moving forward. His nose nudged your clit, providing a gentle friction that had your thighs quivering on either side of his head. His eyes, though, were fixated on you, hungry for every reaction you gave.

The coil was tightening rapidly inside. It wasn’t until he eased in a second finger that you came, nearly shooting forward if it wasn’t for Steve’s unforgiving grip. You cried out as Steve lowered you, grinding your pussy directly onto Bucky’s mouth and not letting up until you were begging.

He lifted you up and Bucky cried out, hands shooting to your thighs. “Please, Stevie, I’m not finished, I’m not finished - “  


“So greedy, Buck,” Steve shook his head, getting you comfortable in the pillows after tugging Bucky’s hands from you. “Thought tasting her might make you feel better. It’s only made you greedier, hasn’t it?”

Bucky was hard again, cock bobbing against his thigh as he scrambled into a sitting position, looking embarrassingly close to tears. Steve only shushed him, stroking soft patterns into your thigh even as you tilted your hips and tried to get him to touch your pussy.

“She needs to be fucked,” he finally said. “I don’t trust you to do it, Buck. I think you’ll cum too earlier and leave our girl unsatisfied.”

Steve turned back to you. “You want me to fuck you, sweet girl?”

You let your thighs fall open in response. 

Steve swore at the sight of your swollen folds and the slick leaking from them. You relished that moment of lost control. How couldn’t you? You knew how good it felt now. Asking for it back seemed like a sin.  


Steve’s clothes disappeared quickly, discarded in the same way your’s and Bucky’s had been. Steve fisted his own cock, moaning at the sight of Bucky’s cum glistening on it. You wanted to lick up and kiss him, taste it on his tongue.

He got himself seated between your thighs, pulling you close until his cock brushed your clit. He soothed the ache, thumbed at the flesh until you were squirming.

“Want you to make yourself cum, Bucky,” he said, not tearing his eyes from yours. “Show her what she does to you.”

Your eyes strayed to Bucky, who was fucking eagerly into his own fist, though there was no mistaking where he’d rather be. 

Steve eased the head between your folds, going until it notched onto your entrance. You shifted and he swore, hands grabbing at your hips. The head had gone in and you contracted around it, wanting more but not sure how to ask for it.

Steve didn’t have to ask to know what you wanted. He pushed forward until his hips slotted against yours, the head of his cock barely kissing your cervix. The pain was welcome, tied you down to reality when you felt like you might drift off.

Bucky was whining pitifully, arranging himself next to you so he could see where you and Steve were connected. Your breath caught as he reached over to grasp your hand with the one he wasn’t using, bringing it up to kiss your knuckle before slipping your fingers into his mouth and sucking.

You head snapped toward Steve. “Fuck me, please, I need it.”

Steve pressed a chaste kiss to the corner of your mouth before pulling back and slamming in. He set up a punishing pace and, in a way, it was a punishment. A punishment for all the time you’d kept yourself away when you could’ve had this, a punishment for all the times they’d had to hold themselves back because you would’t let them do anything otherwise. 

He coaxed moan after moan from you with each twist of his hips, and when his fingers began on your clit you keened, almost vibrating in the cage of his arms. Emotions flooded you, too many to even begin to look at them and what they might mean.

Bucky had turned on his front, hips bunching against the mattress as he watched Steve fuck you. His teeth clamped around your fingers as he came close and you clenched around Steve in response, who began to immediately double down on your clit.

You mewled under the attention, finding it too much but also exactly what you wanted. Was that how it would always be with them?

Steve shifted, suddenly changing the angle and making your eyes flutter closed. There was a pulsing in your core, and when you felt Steve beginning to slow, you knew you were cumming. 

It felt intoxicating, the way Steve sensed your orgasm and immediately crowded you, fucking you through it and allowing it to send him diving into his. The feel of him spilling was almost enough to send you off again, but then he was pulling away and getting you comfortable by his side.

Bucky’s voice was raspy when he spoke. “We have to clean her up, Stevie, make sure she feels okay.”

“He’s worried, honey,” Steve translated, glancing between your thighs. “How are you feeling?”

“Feels good,” you said, voice throaty. “Wanna stay here for a little bit.”

Bucky was pottering around at the end of the bed, disappearing for a moment before returning with a cool cloth. He began to clean you up, stroking gently at the drying cum around your thighs and opening. It was relaxing and he was attentive, stopping to check in on you at almost every swipe.

“You’ll be staying here for a lot longer than a little bit,” he huffed. Then he paused, looking up. “Won’t you?”

This time you didn’t have to think about your answer. “I’m staying, Bucky. I’m staying.”


	19. between

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Reader enjoys and early morning with Steve and Bucky.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  **Warnings:** 18+, smut, polygamous relationship, subby!Bucky, dom!Steve, orgasm denial, thigh humping, fingering, m/m smut, dirty talk

It was a rare thing, waking up between both men. Steve was usually the first to rouse, and Bucky would follow not long after. You were content to stay between the sheets, until one or both men came to pull you out of them.

Sometimes you wondered if you missed out on things. There had been times where you’d walked in on them in the shower, Steve’s leg nestles between Bucky’s thighs, his arms caging him against the shower wall and encouraging Bucky to grind himself to release. You remembered him once, Steve, looking over his shoulder and smiling a slow smile.

“Had to take the edge off for him, honey,” he’d said, all slow and casual. “Buck was gonna wake you up, how hard he was humping the bed. Shaking the whole thing, wasn’t it?”

And Bucky, baby blue eyes peering at you over broad shoulders, shuddering at the sight of you. Nipples peaked against a thin shirt (never yours) and pupils blown wild at the sight of his cock sliding over Steve’s thighs.

A good memory, if there ever was one.

You huffed, tugging the sheets down below your neck. Bucky was plastered to your bag, nose digging against the side of your neck, hot puffs of air blowing over your cheeks. His thigh was slotted between yours, the coarse hairs tickling and making you shift.

Steve was on your other side, arm thrown so that it just about covered the both of you. He’d been up late last night; you’d woken up and seen him sitting up, staring down at the both of you with adoration shining in his eyes. He’d kissed you on the forehead and whispered something about both his loves looking so pretty together. 

The thought made your nipples peak, as did the vision Steve presented. Completely at ease, chest slowly rising as he inhaled and exhaled, a strand of hair swaying with the movement. He looked so strong, so secure that it almost made you want to cry. You’d found a home with both of them, when you’d never thought you’d even get one.

Bucky stirred, his thigh shifting and coming to press insistently against you. You stiffened and slowly made to slip out from the sheets, made find relief in the shower, but then an arm was coming to lock around your waist.

Stubble grazing against your neck had you shivering, and Bucky chuckled, his voice rough with sleep. “Can feel you, baby. What’s got you so hot and bothered so early in the morning?”

You turned just enough so that you could see him, playful blue eyes flickering from your eyes to your lips. “Bucky. Don’t tease.”

“You gonna wake Stevie, then?” He questioned, though there was nothing innocent about it. “You know I can’t touch you if he doesn’t say.”

“Not even this once?” You ask, catching his thigh between yours and firmly seating your pussy against the thigh muscle.

Bucky swore, his thigh tensing beneath you. You whimpered and he slipped a hand beneath your head, coming to cup your cheek and pull you back. “Now who’s teasing? C’mon, doll, wake him up.”

“You don’t really want that,” you whisper, nipping at that little dimple on Bucky’s chin, “else you’d wake him yourself.”

Bucky didn’t respond. For a moment you thought he might pull away, and then his hand was coming to cup your hip and he was pressing you down against his thigh, moving you back a little until his cock was nudging insistently at your ass.

“There you go,” he hissed as you pressed back against him, your head coming to rest on his shoulder. “Just like that. You gonna make us cum, baby?”

It wasn’t quite enough, but Bucky knew that. He always did. His hand parted from your hip, instead coming to rub circles into your clit until you were keening. He was laughing, albeit breathlessly, as you rode his thigh and fingers into completion.

Cold fingers on your chin snatched your attention. Warm blue eyes. Steve. He covered Bucky’s hand with his own, pushing it away until he was cupping your pussy. “Did Buck make you cum, honey?”

“Yes,” you answered honestly, but you couldn’t resist bucking into Steve’s hand for more. That was how it always was with those two - more, more, more. You thought you knew your limits - but with them, you didn’t have any.

“Not that well,” he murmured, pulling back the sheets to watch the way you were riding his hand, “else you wouldn’t be so hungry for more. Or is that just how you are, honey? Your pussy always hungry for my cock, hm?”

Your eyes nearly rolled to the back of your head, but Bucky’s nose was pressing into your temple, urging you to reply. “Y-yes, Steve, please. Make me cum?”

The force of Bucky’s hips bucking into your ass was nearly sending you across the bed, but it also did a nice job of grinding you into Steve’s palm. Steve leaned forward and swallowed your moans with a searing kiss, not pulling away until you were flinching away from his fingers, your clit sensitive.

“You cum yet, Buck?” Steve asked, still not taking his eyes from you.

“No,” Bucky answered, moving his leg from between yours and instead throwing it over. “Almost. Fuck, feels so good.”

“He’s so desperate for you, honey,” Steve cooed, brushing damp hair from your face. “He woke you up on purpose, you know? Pretended to be asleep so he could get you all wet for him. Selfish, isn’t it?”

“It is,” you agreed solemnly though a smile was spreading across your face.

As if sensing what was about to happen, Bucky began a slow, dirty grind on your ass, adjusting you until you were pinned between the mattress and him. He caught your ear lobe between his teeth, growling a warning to stay still.

He stopped the moment Steve tapped his hip. “Off, Buck.”

“No,” he gaped, hips twitching, “please, Stevie, I need to -“

“You should’ve let our girl sleep,” Steve said, tone dripping with faux disapproval. “Now, go shower. Calm down. You can cum later - if our girl wants you to.”

Bucky peered down at you, baby blues desperate and pleading. You grinned up at him, pressing back so your ass was welded against the hard line of his cock. “Maybe later, Bucky.”

Bucky looked debauched, his lips red and swollen, wet from his tongue. His pupils were blown wide, and as he got off of you, yours went straight to the bulge in his boxers. The head of his cock jutted past the waistband and he absently palmed it, hissing from the pressure and pulling his hand away as Steve tutted. You couldn’t help it; your mouth watered.

You’d told him later. Now you weren’t sure you’d last that long.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Let me know what you think!!


	20. canvas to skin

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Steve draws a very intimate picture of you

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  **Warnings:** 18+, minors DNI, smut, established relationship, nude modelling but in private ;), dirty talk

Lazy Sunday mornings were a favourite of yours. The way the sun filtered through the sheer curtains, just the perfect amount; the way the sheets were cozy with leftover body heat and how they seemed cosier than they had been the night before. The way Steve woke you up with soft kisses and promises of what would come if you were patient. 

You shifted a little, chest rising with a yawn, your leg vibrating with the movement. Then, a gentle tap on your thigh; the solid end of a pencil. Warm, blue eyes. 

“Stay still, doll.”

You shuddered under the weight of his gaze, seeking it out even as his attention reverted back to the sketch pad in his hands. Those same hands that were always so careful when they took you apart, so careful when they traced the outlines of your figure on a pad and smoothed charcoal down the lines of your body.

It had become somewhat of a routine, one that you happily obliged in. Steve never went running on Sundays, he preferred to slip his sketch pad from the bedside table and spill you onto the pages. And if you were good, if you were still, he might turn his attention from the pages and turn it on you instead. 

“You’re in your head,” he said, eyes flickering up. “What are you thinking about?”

You smiled slowly. “I thought you like it when I’m still.”

“Mmm,” he hummed, a soft agreement. “Sometimes. Spread your legs a little wider, doll?”

You did so, at peace with the warm flush that worked its way through your insides. It was still new to you, being bared like this, but you were comfortable. More than comfortable, if not a little shy. 

Steve’s eyes latched onto that place between your legs. The pencil was tapping against his bottom lip as he stared. You tried not to fidget too much; this was an artists’ appraisal, not a lover’s. 

It was incredible, the way he could look at your body without sexual intent. It was far more intimate than any kind of sex, any kind of touch. Your eyes stung, love singing through your body so hard that it was almost overwhelming. You closed them, arched your back a little and let the sun kiss your skin.

“Stay still, doll.”

“I know.”

Steve leaned forward suddenly, pressing his fingers against your thigh. You allowed him to move it, spread you open for his gaze. You tried to peek at his sketch book but he held it tauntingly out of reach, smiling a little as you huffed.

His gaze flickered down. “You getting restless, honey?”

“A little,” you admitted, “but I’m comfortable. I can stay still for a little longer.”

Steve nodded, a smile tugging at the edges of his lips. “Are you sure?” He said, using his thumb to massage your inner thigh.

“You’re not meant to be making this harder for me,” you reminded him, lowering your eyebrows in a faux-scowl.

He laughed this time, the sound reminding you of the sun. “I know, I know. I won’t be much longer.

“That’s what you always say,” you teased, letting your eyes fall closed as you drifted into a steady doze. 

You didn’t open them again for a while. Occasionally Steve would move you, a finger adjusting the position of your arm, brushing hairs from your face or ghosting against your thighs. It was comfortable, knowing that you could trust him to look at you like that.

It was a while before he moved again. You heard the creak of the chair as he got up, the brushing of pages as he put his sketch book on the bedside table. The mattress sank as he got onto it and, even though you kept your eyes closed, you could feel him as he hovered about you. 

“Can I see?” You asked.

“Later,” he answered, finally brushing his lips against yours. 

At some point he’d taken his clothes off, and he swallowed your surprised moan as he pressed every inch of his body against yours. You wished he could draw this, the two of you intwined so tightly that you looked like one. 

There was no need for preparation; you’d been wet since he’d pressed you back into the sheets and asked that you stay there. Steve gave a shaky breath as he thrust up and over your mound, coating himself in your arousal. You pressed his face into your neck and draped one leg over his hip, opening yourself up and giving unspoken permission at the time time.

You both gasped as the head of his cock notched at your entrance. His hips trembled slightly as he drove in, only stopping once his hips were tight against yours. You couldn’t help it; you squeezed around him, arched a little and squirmed.

“Should’ve known,” he gritted, laughing hoarsely. “You can never keep still.”

He pulled back to look at your face, brushing wild hairs from your forehead and pressing a gentle kiss where his fingers had been. He only moved once he was sure you wouldn’t look away. The first time he drew away and pressed back in was enough to make you whine, enough to make you cry with the tender way he was looking at you.

Steve fucked into you at a gentle pace, even when you wished he would speed up. In the months you’d known him, you came to understand that he liked to draw things out. You understood why, too. All those years in the ice had sped by, and now he was eager for a moment of respite. He found that in you. 

You could feel your wetness coating your inner thighs and his. You sucked in a breath as Steve’s thumb found your clit, his pace finally stuttering as you clenched around his cock. 

“C’mon, doll,” he urged, “you don’t gotta be still now. Want you to be loud for me, okay?”

And you were. He pressed his mouth to yours and tasted every sound you made, relished in the knowledge that it was because of him.

When he finally pulled away, your thighs were shaking and your eyes were drooping with fatigue. He kissed your cheek, pulled back to look at the mess between your thighs and coo gentle praise. 

“You going sleep again?” He asked. “That works out for me. Stay still, okay?”

The quiet rasp of pencil on paper was enough to send you back into sleep.


	21. hands on*

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> You buy a ton of new leggings online and Bucky has trouble keeping his hands to himself.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  **Warnings:** 18+, slight needy!Bucky, possessiveness, established relationship, oral (female receiving), vaginal sex

Bucky has done a lot of things in his life, but he wonders what, exactly, he did to deserve this. 

Packages had arrived at the apartment this morning, and you’d seemed more excited than usual. You’d mumbled something about ‘leggings’ and ‘special designs’ and had darted off to the bedroom with the boxes.

Bucky had had no idea what leggings were, but had made the reasonable assumption that they were clothes of some kind. He’d been patient, had sat at the table eating his breakfast and watching yours go cold. 

“Aren’t you gonna show me?” He had finally called out.

“I am,” you replied, “‘m just trying the last ones on. I don’t want to have to return anything.”

Bucky had polished off the rest of his oatmeal by the time you made an appearance, and he was really, really glad he had because he definitely would’ve choked if he hadn’t. 

“Okay,” you breathed, smoothing your hands down the fabric. “I think these are my favourite - I love the colours! What do you think, Bucky?”

At that point, Bucky’s brain promptly turned to goo and dribbled out of his mouth. “I - uh, I mean -“

Then, as if it couldn’t get any worse, you did a little pose. Turning your back to the mirror, you stuck one leg slightly in front of the other and turned to view yourself from the side. Your nose wrinkled, and Bucky might’ve commented on how cute it was if he hadn’t died several moments ago.

“I like them,” you finally settled. Then, you repeated, “But what do you think?”

“You’re not wearing them out,” Bucky settled on. He regretted the words the moment they came out, and not only because of how controlling they sounded but because of the way your face crumpled.

“Oh,” you said, shoulders slumping. “Okay. I guess I can return them.”

Bucky desperately wanted to say something, anything, but his mouth wasn’t cooperating. Instead, he rose to his feet and blocked your exit, swivelling you back round until your face was tucked against his chest and your back was to the mirror.

Bucky hissed at the sight of your ass in the leggings, finally able to appreciate a full view. “Shit, baby. You know what you’re doing to me?”

You looked up, any trace of self-consciousness disintegrating with the stirring of Bucky’s boxers. “You like them, Buck?”

“I do,” he admitted, smoothing his hands down from your waist to your hips. He wasn’t sure how to ask. “Look so good in ‘em. You got more?”

“Shorts too,” you said, pressing a kiss just above his heart. “Almost one in every colour.”  
“Shit,” he swallowed, admiring the way your hips swelled into your ass. “Baby, I - can I?”

“Sure,” you shrugged, but there was a shit eating grin on your face. “You can feel if you want.”

And Bucky wanted. He let his hands fall to your ass, squeezing a handful of the flesh in each hand. The grin slid right off your face, your eyes suddenly going glassy as you rocked forward from the weight of his hands. 

“Mmm,” Bucky bit down on his bottom lip, nodding his head. “You like that? Fuck, ‘m never gonna get tired of the ass. Look at it.”

Bucky punctuated his words with another squeeze, revealing in the way your next breath was shaky. The leggings were only highlighting what was already there, but Bucky couldn’t get enough of the way the fabric darkened just below the beginning of your ass and seemed to almost lift it.

“Fuck,” he let his lip go, running his tongue over it to sooth the area. “Give me a kiss, baby.”

You obliged, tilting your head back to meet him halfway. There was nothing gentle about the kiss; it was messy and clumsy in the best way. You met every stroke of Bucky’s tongue with a groan and a slight shiver, and Bucky’s grip on your ass was only tightening.

“Buck,” you shuddered, “aren’t you gonna let me go?”

He traced your jawline with his nose, nipping at the soft skin with a whispers of adoration. “Can’t. Love you too much.”

“Bucky,” you tried again, rocking against him in a way that suggested you didn’t even know you were doing it. “Please, I want you to -“

“Want me to what?” He interrupted, slipping two fingers between your lips and moaning at the way your tongue immediately swirled around them. “You want me to take these leggings off and touch you proper?”

You tried to answer but it came out distorted around Bucky’s digits, so you settled for frantically nodding. Bucky pulled his fingers from your mouth, eyes clouding at the way they shone in the sun. 

It served as a reminder, and he swore gently and pulled you away from the window. “This is for my eyes only, hm?” he gave a not-so gentle tap to your ass to punctuate the sentence. 

Clothes were discarded on the way to the bedroom, until only the leggings remained. It felt weird to be in only those, your bra somewhere in the living room, but the way Bucky was looking at you made it easy to forget.

Bucky hummed, momentarily turning away and survey the mess of packaging and fabric on the floor. “Almost one of every colour, and you’re gonna have to try them all on for me.”

Bucky wormed his fingers beneath the waistband of the leggings, letting go to watch them snap back against your skin. His eyes fixated on the thin pink line that appeared, his breathing shallow and rushed.

“Later, you’re gonna tell me where you got ‘em from,” he bit out, “’n we’re gonna get you one in every colour. Several pairs, even. Only wear these from now on.”

There was no chance for you to reply, because Bucky was pushing you back onto the bed and tearing the leggings off in one smooth move. Immediately his hands slid underneath you, flipping you over so he could get a better grip of your ass.

You keened at the wet kiss he placed on one cheek, panting at the way he gripped and spread your cheeks to get a better view of your pussy. “Love this ass, but you’ve got something better for me, don’t you?”

A strangled noise caught in your throat as Bucky buried his face into your skin, tongue delving into the hottest, wettest part of you like he’d never known anything else. Both of his hands periodically squeezed and release your ass, kneading the flesh as if it was the only thing he wanted to feel for the rest of his life. 

“Bucky, Bucky,” you chanted his name like a prayer, letting your face fall into the mattress and your hips fall back into his face. 

You thought he might laugh, or pull away and make some kind of witty comment, but he was beyond that. Seeing you this morning and knowing that you were his, that he could touch you like this, had sent his head spinning. 

And the best way to get it back on was to give you a good, hard orgasm. 

Your eyes fluttered shut as Bucky’s tongue swiped across your clit, once, twice, and then again. Your legs were trembling on in his hold, back aching almost from the hard arch you were holding, but you couldn’t bring yourself to move. Not when your orgasm was approaching you with the speed and subtly of a truck on the motorway.

You last coherent thought was to reach back and grab a fistful of Bucky’s hair, effectively keeping him right where you wanted him. He groaned at the pleasure-pain and redoubled his efforts on your clit. 

There was a split second where every muscle in your body tensed. Release followed soon after, and you were sagging down onto the bed, legs shaking, mouth gaping, as Bucky lapped enthusiastically at the wetness seeping from your pussy. It wasn’t until you whimpered that he pulled away.

Bucky pressed a wet kiss to your cheek, pushing your hair back from your face so he could get a better look at you. “Was that good, baby? You liked it? You gonna let me give it to you now?”

“Please,” you managed, shifting until your legs parted around Bucky.

He was quick to settle between them, admiring the redness of your ass that clearly marked where his hands had been. There was a healthy amount of beard burn between your thighs, too. Bucky stroked a finger across the area and grinned, satisfied.  
“Wanna watch this ass as I fuck you,” he murmured, shoving his boxers to his ankles and pumping himself in his hand. Precum beaded at the top and Bucky trailed it across your ass. “You gonna be good for me, baby?”

You gasped as Bucky pushed in, your pussy struggling to accommodate his length despite being together for almost a year. Nothing could prepare you for James Barnes, and you weren’t sure you wanted it to.

Pleasure lit up every nerve on your body as he got fully seated, reaching beneath you to rub circles on your clit. It was still sensitive but his touch was enough to have you softening around him, making it easier for him to pull out and push back in in one practised move.

“More, Bucky,” you slurred, hands grasping at the duvet cover for purchase. “I want you to be harder.”

The only sign that he heard you was the rough grunt he gave before shoving his hips into you so hard that you nearly hit your head on the headboard. He gave a breathless laugh, plastering himself to your back so the could slip one hand beneath your head to protect it.

“Careful, baby,” he hissed, hips pumping into your warmth. “I know you go dumb for my cock but I don’t want you to get hurt.”

Warm puffs of breath hit your cheek as Bucky seamlessly worked himself and you to orgasm. His finger returned to rub at your clit, making you push back into his punishing pace and work for it.

He cursed as you suddenly tightened, pussy convulsing around his cock and urging him to come and to do it deep. Ultimately, it was the breathy half-moan of his name that had him spiralling over the edge, hips frantically pumping as he made sure to stuff you with his cum as deeply as he could.

Flopping to the side, Bucky pulled you with him, nestling your back to his chest. There was a wet sound as his softening cock slid free but Bucky quickly replaced it with his fingers, pushing them deep to keep as much of his cum in as possible.

You were on the verge of sleep when Bucky finally spoke up. “You’re gonna try them all on for me later, baby.”

“Later,” you agreed, snuggling closer. 

“I can’t fucking wait.”


End file.
